396 
FOREST AND STREAM 
September, 1921 
ance from the salt water. “This,” said 
Mr. Adams, “is conclusive evidence in 
support of what I have so many times 
said: if anglers would confine their ef- 
forts more to the headwaters of our 
bays and rivers they would be well re- 
paid for their endeavors.” 
Two good size weakfish were added to 
their catch during the afternoon, both 
of them on the shrimp bait, and the boy 
was enamored of the sport, as well as 
the men, who greatly enjoyed the boy’s 
enthusiasm over the splendid colors and 
form of the weak fish. “They’re mos’ 
zactly like a trout,” he said, as he 
turned them over and examined them 
critically. “They got square tails an’ 
are pink all over ’em an’ spots. I won- 
der if they ain’t some kind’a trout?” 
“Well,” said Mr. Adams, “the same 
question was asked more than one hun- 
dred years ago, and by a head much 
older and wiser than yours, and it has 
been asked over and over ever since 
by many, but the answer seems as far 
away as ever,” and the man contem- 
plated with affection the boy, who was 
unconsciously an enthusiastic natural- 
ist. Then, turning to his bass the lad 
said: “If Aunt Mary could on’y see 
this fish she’d be near loony, but I bet 
she’d try to tell herself she was the 
reason I got him. She’s funny that way 
but good.” 
He again went to the store before 
dark and carried letters from each of 
them to the home folks, one of which 
went to the hired man telling him what 
day to meet them at the boat landing. 
As he returned to camp the odor of 
broiling fish came to his nostrils while 
some distance 'away, and as he entered 
the camp he remarked: “I bet you ain’t 
got enough for on’y me.” But the plate 
of soft crabs in addition to the fish 
came as a surprise to him and the two 
men enjoyed watching the lad’s eager 
disposition of the appetizing sea food. 
“Seems ’ough salt water’s got the best 
o’ all the world for things what’s good,” 
he went on as the meal progressed. 
“Is it as good as here wherever the’s 
salt water?” he asked. He was told 
that there was vast difference in fish, as 
well as in birds, around different 
waters, and that there were no crabs 
such as he was eating in the cold cli- 
mate, although there were many fine 
fish in the northern seas; some as fine 
as in the warmer waters. 
O N the day in which packing up for 
home was being done, the boy’s 
actions were pathetic. He wand- 
dered many times to the little river’s 
bank and gazed down toward the bay 
where he had had so many pleasant 
surprises in the brief week they had 
spent in the camp. Crabs, shrimps and 
many of the salt water fishes had be- 
come familiar to him. He had inhaled 
the glorious air of the salt water 
marshes, and his very soul was rich 
with the experience and joy of it all. 
Mr. Woodhull’s condition was ‘inspir- 
ing. He was no longer the anemic man 
we first met. There was bloom on his 
cheek and vigor in his voice while 
rugged action played through his mus- 
cles. As to Mr. Adams he was sincere- 
ly delighted with it all. He had had as 
companions the quiet man, who was so 
rapidly being rejuvenated, and the boy 
— the whimsical, golden-hearted Matt 
who had all unconsciously woven him- 
self into the heart of the man of 
wealth. 
What though there were freckles on 
nose and cheek and his cap was to be 
seen on his head hind side in front more 
often than in its proper place, he no 
longer saw such things; he looked be- 
yond and down into the depth of his 
honest grey eyes and read there the 
glow of the true nature lover who 
would rather watch a bird build its 
nest, or delve into the mysteries of a 
spawning fish than see any display of 
wealth and power. 
While the latter might for the mo- 
ment startle and surprise him, still his 
love was not with it, and he knew from 
his experience in life that such as love 
the call of the wild are to be trusted 
in the affairs of men. 
As the hour for departure arrived the 
lad wandered down to the bank near the 
pool where he had caught the bass and 
weakfish, and he stood drinking in the 
fascination of the surrounding scenery 
as though loath to leave its charm, won- 
dering in his boyish mind if he would 
ever again visit the spot. 
Ah, Matt, you were not the first of 
your kind neither will you be the last 
to be in such a mood. Little did you 
know that moment that in future years 
every foot of the surrounding country 
would be as familiar to you as your 
own dooryard, and that your hounds 
would nose out game to fall to your gun 
throughout the adjacent swamps, while 
the lairs of fur-bearing animals would 
be as familiar to you as to them. 
The writer knows all these things, for 
(continued on page 420) 
THE FROSTFISH AND THE DRY FLY 
THE TAKING OF A NEW KIND OF GAME FISH WHICH FURN- 
ISHES GOOD SPORT WHEN THE TROUT ARE OFF FEED 
I N the summer of 1919 a party of 
anglers were discussing the fishing 
prospects in one of our little Adiron- 
dack lakes. We had come in from the 
various cities and towns of New York 
and other states. While, of course, 
there were many summer vacationists 
who cared only to paddle, row, bathe, 
or hike, there were some devotees of 
the fishing game naturally interested in 
all that pertains to the sport. 
All were complaining about the situ- 
ation. For the first three weeks, re- 
sults had been fairly good. By the first 
of August strikes grew rare and catch- 
es rarer. Some tried the nearby 
streams and rivers for “speckles,” but 
without the usual success. 
Various reasons were suggested to 
account for the failure to get fish. 
Some attributed it to the frequent 
rains, which, they said, washed too 
much food into the waters. Others 
said the cold, dark weather was re- 
sponsible. A guide suggested that the 
water was too warm, and that the fish 
were too well-fed with buoy-bait and 
By EDWARD T. WHIFFEN 
natural food supply found in the lake. 
Now there were three kinds of fish 
caught — lake trout, speckled trout and 
frost fish. Fishing was usually done 
at buoys anchored in from twenty-five 
to fifty feet of water. Occasionally a 
“speckle” was taken in fairly shallow 
water by trolling, or casting with the 
fly. The larger lakers were caught by 
trolling, but only once in a while. 
Frostfish were caught on small hand- 
lines, No. 8 or 10 hooks, baited with 
a small piece of minnow. These last 
fish had been our main standby that 
summer. I had caught only three or 
four lakers, but had taken about three 
dozen frostfish during my first three 
weeks of fishing. 
“What are those fish that keep com- 
ing to the top?” a passerby in a row- 
boat asked of a guide who had his buoy 
next to mine. 
“Well,” was the reply, “some are 
speckles, I guess, and some are shin- 
ers, but I dunno what those bigger 
ones are with silver sides. Look like 
frostfish.” We exchanged remarks on 
the subject. I said I thought some 
were “speckles,” in fact on a few oc- 
casions I had been close enough to 
identify the fish, as it went down with 
its capture, and it had been a “sure 
enough speckle.” I myself had had 
some curiosity in the matter, enough so 
that I had carried out light fly-tackle. 
This I rarely used, because between 
the rod for “lakers,” and the handline 
for “frosties,” I had had my hands, 
my heart, and my thoughts full. 
One evening I had four rises — at 
least the fly had gone under that num- 
ber of times. I struck once or twice 
when that happened; but, having both 
hands otherwise engaged, I had propped 
the fly-rod against the thwart of the 
canoe, and so had been too late to 
hook the fish, if fish it were that had 
pulled the fly under. 
The remark of the guide, “looks like 
frostfish,” set me thinking. I was 
somewhat skeptical. Guides and expe- 
rienced anglers had told me that frost- 
fish were always in deep water until 
October, when they came into the shal- 
