Sept. 13, 1913. 
FOREST AND STREAM 
331 
rays, except at rare openings along the stream. 
Once in a while we would find an opening to 
the water and poke our rods through it over 
the stream to try for a rise between the logs 
and limbs and fallen trees that covered the water 
like a tangled spider’s web, in places a tangled 
mass, over and under, and partly in the water, 
in every conceivable direction. Frequently, as 
we forced our weary way along the low banks, 
we would step on a patch of soft green moss 
and plunge a foot or two into the icy water, 
where the current had eaten under the bank, 
leaving only the treacherous carpet of moss as 
a lure for the feet of the unwary angler, and it 
was at such little mishaps that Jim’s wonderful 
command of language—not in the books—came 
into play with the most brilliant effects. Drag¬ 
ging a leg out of a hole, he tilted it back in the 
rear to let the water run out of his boot, and 
as he rubbed his off-eye where a spruce branch 
had swished into it as I passed ahead, a few 
fragments caught my ear, such as ‘ Delights of 
trout fishing—glorious sport—fell in the stream 
—broiled in the sun—both shins peeled—boots 
full of ice water—one eye knocked out with a 
‘bresh’—back bro—Here a hearty "Ho ho ! 
ho!" changed the drift of his thoughts as I 
tripped over a root and measured my length in 
a nice bed of soft, black mud. 
After fishing every available spot of water 
for half a mile without a nibble, we were con¬ 
vinced that Jim had polluted the water to such 
an extent when he fell in that all the trout that 
were not paralyzed had taken refuge in their 
deepest and most remote hiding places. We sat 
down on a log to rest, and Jim swore a highly 
polished oath that he wouldn't go a step further 
for all the trout that could find breathing room 
in Lake Michigan, and striking the butt of his 
rod a foot into the ooze at his feet, clinched 
it with, “There, blank you! Stick there till 
some other lunatic comes along and pulls you 
out! Let’s go to camp.” 
Avoiding the windings of the stream, we 
worked our way back through the woods to the 
corduroy, striking it a few yards from the 
bridge over the south branch. Disliking to go 
back to camp and face the Scribe without a mess 
of trout, I prevailed on Jim to wait and rest 
while I went up to the stream to where I took 
the half-pounder. 
The character of the swamp above the road 
was much the same as below, if anything a trifle 
worse. At very few places could I use more 
than three or four feet of line on account of 
the overhanging limbs and bushes, but by care¬ 
fully fishing the south branch for an eighth of 
a mile, f took eight beautifully marked fish of 
nearly the same size as the first one, and lost 
twice as many more for want of room to handle 
them in. Some of them I lifted a foot or two 
from the water, only to see them shake clear 
of the hook and fall back in the stream. One 
hungry fellow took the bait six times, and was 
twice lifted a foot or more out of the water. 
The sixth time the hook buried itself over the 
barb, and by sliding the rod back of me through 
the bushes, I got hold of the line and dragged 
him out on the bank. In fact, this mode of land¬ 
ing them was the rule and not the exception. 
I am aware it was an unsportsmanlike way 
of taking a trout, and a fly-fisher looking on 
would have smiled at the procedure, but had the 
best of them been in my shoes, they would prob- 
abiy have done as I did, or gone back to camp 
troutless. The fish were not at all shy; on the 
contrary, some of them would take the bait four 
and five times while I stood in plain sight. To 
fish this stream—at least, where we fished it— 
a short, stiff rod and a stout line and hook are 
necessary with which to yank them out from 
between the logs and from under roots before 
they have time to whip around a limb or snag. 
Nearer the mouth there are a few pools where 
neighbor Johnson has cut away the “bresh,” and 
at these places, he said, excellent sport might 
be had with both bait and fly, but he carelessly 
failed to apprise me of this fact till the day 
before I was ready to break camp. Score one 
for Brother Johnson. 
I am satisfied that the stream is full of trout, 
but whoever starts in to fishing must keep it 
steadily in his mind that he is not going to a 
picnic, but to a day’s hard, laborious work. A 
lusty shout from below and a glance at the sun 
through a rift in the foliage warned me it was 
time to quit if we were to make camp before 
dark. Back to the road once more I found Jim 
enjoying a quiet smoke—his tobacco and matches 
having thoroughly dried in the hot sun—and im¬ 
patient to start. Going back to the boat we 
twice took a wrong road, adding at least a mile 
to the weary tramp, but finally the sight of the 
little river gladdened our eyes and put new life 
into our tired legs. A vigorous use of the oars 
took us to camp at sundown, and a few minutes 
later our trout were crowding out the smell of 
bass and pickerel from two sputtering, sizzling 
frying-pans over the fire. So ended the Editor’s 
first day after trout. 
I spent most of the next day up the lake 
with my old friends, the bass and longfaces, with 
whom I had many sharp and frequent differ¬ 
ences. The boys spent the forenoon in studying 
over and preparing for a contemplated trip down 
the lakes to Traverse City, back up the bay to 
Charlevoix, up Pine Lake to the mouth of the 
Boyne, stage to Boyne Falls, and from there to 
Petoskey by rail. In the afternoon they tied a 
boat to a stake in the edge of the rushes at the 
foot of the island, and with the middle and top 
joints of a bass rod, and four or five feet of a 
light line, had some rare sport with the sunfish. 
Around the islands and along the shore of these 
lakes near and among the rushes are countless 
thousands of these game little fellows, from an 
inch to seven and eight inches in length, and 
they bite eagerly at anything in the shape of 
bait. They are clear grit to the last, and be¬ 
sides the sport of taking them, which is the prime 
consideration, they diffuse a very “comfortin’ 
odor” from a well regulated frying-pan. 
After supper the question of breaking camp 
was taken up and disposed of. I had my choice 
of breaking up, sending the traps with the camp 
boy to the railroad to be shipped home, and join 
them on their trip, or stay, fish out my furlough, 
pack up and go home by myself. I chose the 
latter, as I had come just a purpose to fish. 
Breakfast over next morning, the boys packed 
a small gripsack with a box of cigars and a 
paper collar, and waited for one of the Cutler 
boys to come over with his boat and take them 
to Central Lake, whence they were to cross over 
to Russell’s and wait for the steamer for Elk 
Rapids. While they waited, I went up the lake 
and fished till they came along, and when the 
good-byes were said, they disappeared behind 
Long Point, and I saw them no more till we 
met at home. 
When they were really gone, having my man 
Friday ready to hand in the person of “Johnnie," 
I felt a little Crusoeish, but that night about 10 
o’clock a party of four young fellows arrived 
from Chicago for a week’s fishing, and knocked 
all my sentiment and solitude into the lake, and 
I drifted gladly back into the old, pleasant re¬ 
lations with the fish, the eagles, the loons, the 
kingfishers and the muskrats. 
Next day I took, with eight others, the 
largest small-mouthed black bass that we got on 
the trip, but was unable to get his weight, as the 
Scribe had locked the scale in his trunk and 
taken the key with him. He was three inches 
longer and an inch deeper in front of the dorsal 
than the one that weighed six and a half pounds, 
and I fondly believed he would have pulled the 
scale “night on to" eight pounds. 
Somehow, it is nearly always the case that 
when one lands his biggest fish there is no scale 
at hand to get his weight, and it is also a well- 
known fact that the fish is sure to benefit by it 
in the matter of avoirdupois, but herein is one 
of the chief comforts of the honest angler, for 
besides gratifying a natural propensity to tell 
“fish stories,” it displays a characteristic trait 
in the craft in not taking a mean advantage of 
anything, not even a fish, to make it appear 
smaller than it really is. 
I gave him, with a dozen others, to three 
neighbor boys-—shavers of ten to fourteen years 
who had fallen into the praiseworthy habit of 
picking a tin pail full of ripe, red raspberries 
every afternoon, and bringing them over to us 
in the evening, and I am certain the friendly 
relations existing between us were not in the 
least disturbed by not knowing the exact weight 
of that fish. 
The last four days of my stay I tried a new 
bait, suggested by using a trout fin, and the re¬ 
sult was most astonishing. It was simply the 
half of the caudal fin of a three or four-pound 
pickerel. Select a bright-colored fin, leaving 
enough flesh and skin on to afford a firm hold 
for the hook, and troll with it with sixty to 
seventy-five feet of line out. The bait does not 
revolve in the water like a spoon, but dodges 
from side to side in a crazy, erratic sort of way, 
and if there is a longface in sight, he makes a 
dash for it without waiting to ask, "What have 
we here?” It is the most killing lure for pick¬ 
erel I ever used, and I verily believe that had 
I been disposed I could have taken a hundred 
of them in a day’s fishing. I took a dozen or 
more large bass with these pieces of fin, but it 
seems to be the one particular sham the long- 
faces have been looking after, for lo these many 
years. 
After taking eight or ten fish with the half 
of a fin, it becomes worn and split by their teeth 
till it is useless. Select another one which has 
the stripes of rusty black, dull red and orange 
well defined, and repeat till you are worn out 
handling them. 
I will say of the two kinds of bass in this 
lake, the large and the small-mouthed, that they 
are identical with the Micropterus pallidus and 
M. salmoides, described by Prof. Gill. They are 
game to the last gasp, especially -the small¬ 
mouthed one, and I had more keen sport and 
high enjoyment handling a dozen of the largest 
ones than with all the pickerel I took, although 
