374 
July, 1920 
FOREST AND STREAM 
and millers, drawn in from the surround- 
ing woods by the light from the camp lan- 
tern, made the occasion more than inter- 
esting by flapping blindly into the food 
and drink. Only by removing the light 
from the immediate vicinity of the table 
could we enjoy the food in comfort. And 
the colorings and markings of the winged 
creatures were as beautiful and resplen- 
dent as the kinds of moths were varied. 
About every flying thing, from tiny white 
millers of exquisite daintiness, to great, 
gorgeous brown, black and green moths 
was represented. 
“Wonder if some of ’em wouldn’t make 
good bait,” Jerry suggested, fishing a 
miller out of his plate. “Let’s ketch a 
batch and try ’em on the big pools to- 
morrow evenin’.” 
So we captured a lot of the millers and 
moths, mercifully killing each as soon as 
caught, and put them in an empty cocoa 
tin until they should be needed. Next we 
cut the silk and feathers from some Nos. 
6 and 8 Pennel eyed hooks that had be- 
come frayed and useless as flies. 
Sundown the next afternoon found us 
hard by some of the finest pools and rif- 
fles of the trout stream nearest our camp 
— a lively, clear-running brook of long 
and pleasant associations, piscatorially. 
We were keen and expectant to test the 
new bait. But, for all of his thirty-odd 
years of enticing wily trout into his 
landing-net, Jerry was the more enthu- 
siastic. 
Small and medium-sized trout readily 
took the tiniest of the millers — especially 
the grey and white ones — on the riffles. 
We would hook one of the delicate “flies” 
on a No. 8 eyed hook and cast lightly 
over a riffle, and usually it was immedi- 
ately taken with a snap. But the fish 
wanted nothing to do with the large 
moths, which evidently were too big, and 
probably served to frighten rather than 
attract. But at a swift-running pool 
which swirled under a big hemlock log, 
Jerry pulled the broad wings from one 
of the largest green moths and threaded 
the plump, white grub-like body on a 
No. 4 Sproat hook. This he cast near 
the up-stream end of the pool and per- 
mitted the current to whirl it down into 
the' swiftest water. As it tumbled along 
on the water, it appeared to be a remark- 
ably likely lure for a big trout. And it 
was. With lightning-like swiftness a 
large brown trout shot up from the swift- 
est and deepest part of the pool and took 
the bait. And then a fight was on. For 
a big brown trout, when hooked in swift 
water, usually puts up a fight which any 
fisherman may be proud to terminate as 
the victor. Plunging, surging, leaping — 
throwing itself clear of its element with 
all the abandon and ferocity of the small- 
mouth black bass — the big fish made tre- 
mendous efforts to tear out and dive to 
the freedom beneath his big log. But 
the hook was too firmly grounded in his 
jaw; also Jerry was experienced in all 
the tricks of the brown trout, and soon 
the beautiful fish, exhausted and beaten, 
was towed into the shallow water and 
netted. He measured fifteen inches and 
was the largest trout we took that even- 
ing. Jerry smilingly declared that he 
was amply repaid for the inconvenience 
caused by the moths drowning themselves 
in his coffee. 
A T a swampy bit of the seldom-used 
trail which served as a “carry” from 
an Adirondack lake to the naviga- 
ble water of the river which was its out- 
let, old Ren Thompson abruptly slid 
from under the shoulder yoke of the 
guide boat he was lugging and began a 
precipitate and undignified scramble in 
the mud and among the bunches of short 
marsh grass. Spry and active as the 
average man of half his years, the old 
guide hopped and crawled about over the 
marsh, occasionally plucking some dimin- 
utive but exceedingly nimble creature 
from the grass bunches and clasping it 
tightly in the palm of his left hand. 
Presently he came back to the trail, grin- 
ning, and holding by one hind leg a tiny, 
kicking tree-frog. From between and 
around the clinched fingers of the other 
hand protruded various anatomical parts 
of additional frogs. 
“They’re most ’mazin’ good bait,” he 
chuckled, depositing the little kickers in 
the bait pail. “Th’ bass daown on the 
river will go plumb crazy over them!” 
It was a glorious morning in early Sep- 
tember, warm and bright, with only an 
occasional newly-fallen leaf under foot 
and the first frost-tintings on the hills to 
remind one of the autumnal death of all 
growing things. Over the mountains 
hung just a suggestion of a haze, while 
the amber waters of the river sparkled 
in the mellow sunlight. 
We drifted down into a deep, bay-like 
eddy, and Ren anchored the boat near 
a cluster of up-thrust hardhead boulders, 
a few rearing six to eight feet above the 
boat, others disclosing themselves by their 
broad reddish or greenish bulk just be- 
neath the waters’ surface. 
“Here we be,” said Ren, as he slid the 
anchor stone quietly over board. “Naow, 
just try one of them frogs.” 
It was not my first experience with 
young frogs for bass bait —green frogs. 
But these tree-hoppers, varying in hue 
from light cream and grey to a deep 
orange, changing their color almost as 
readily as a chameleon, were brand new 
to me, and expectancy ran high as I 
hooked one of the kickers through the lips 
and made the initial cast. 
Thirty yards out from the boat my 
(CONTINUED ON PAGE 396) 
TALES THE RIVER TOLD TO MATT 
THE NINTH INSTALMENT OF A SERIES OF STORIES DEPICTING THE SIM- 
PLE JOY OF FISHING AS EXEMPLIFIED THROUGH THE EYES OF YOUTH 
By LEONARD HULIT, Associate Editor of Forest and Stream 
I T was a long tramp that Matt took 
one day looking for a suitable boat 
for use on their vacation trip. Boats 
there were in plenty, but one with suffi- 
cient capacity for three men with food 
and tent was not an easy matter, besides 
few men with a really good boat would 
be willing to let it to a mere boy to be 
gone a week or more. He realized this 
when he began bargaining, but he finally 
found a man who, when told that he 
was doing the errand for two men who 
would give it good care and were willing 
to pay him for its use, gave his consent. 
The boat was of the type known among 
bay and river fishermen as “half-round 
bottom,” built of cedar and had bow and 
stern lockers capable of holding ample 
store of provisions. 
The lad had counted on finding a boat 
about four miles down the river but he 
had gone a good seven miles before find- 
ing what he deemed would fill the bill 
of instructions as given him by Mr. 
Adams. 
He could not set the exact date on 
which they would call for it but it made 
no difference to the owner as he would 
not need it until the fall fishing season 
began. Matt reached home about the 
middle of the afternoon, dusty and really 
tired, as he had followed the river wind- 
ing part of the way back which had ma- 
terially increased the distance home. 
Mr. Woodhull was sitting on the little 
porch talking with Aunt Mary as he 
came through the gate. She had formed 
a great liking for the man. He was so 
frail looking when she first met him and 
now, while far from robust, the short 
summer had put elasticity in his step, 
color in his cheeks as well as a percep- 
tible roundness to his figure, all of which 
was pleasing to her and good to behold. 
They had been discussing Matt pretty 
freely before his arrival. Mr. Woodhull 
spoke of him as one who was never cruel 
to any helpless thing and whose language, 
while droll in the extreme at times, was 
never of low order. 
His aunt, while “keepin’,” as she said, 
“a tight rein on him,” knew in her heart 
that he was not a bad boy and that each 
month added to her comforts through his 
increased earnings in a way different 
from all others. He would rather make 
one dollar catching frogs or “giggin’ ” 
suckers than to make two at other work, 
even if he had to work twice as hard 
in order to do it. “An’ so,” she said, “I 
don’t understand him at all. He’ll fairly 
freeze his fingers off in winter to get a 
mus’rat an’ when he snares a rabbit he 
acts as if he’d done somethin’ grand. I 
keep him in school in winter an’ he 
learns, but you can’t get him away from 
