Nov. 1 6, 1912 
FOREST AND STREAM 
G21 
string of sleighs, each one having a couple, and 
the bride and groom were in the lead. The snow 
lay deep from the foot of the hill across the 
main road to the church, and all of the party 
were going at a pretty fast gait. The steed 
driven by the groom dashed across the road, and 
plunging into the snow the sleigh went up into 
the air, and bride and groom left it as if fired 
from a catapult. Both came down head first into 
the snow in front of the church door. I never 
saw a moving picture to equal this. 
When we reached the lake, Sam went to 
work shoveling off the snow in the location where 
he proposed to place the traps, and I began to 
take some healthy exercise with the ice chisel. 
This was an iron spade with a long handle, which 
Sam had sharpened to perfection, and was far 
better than any axe for the purpose; in fact, the 
ice on the lake was between three and four feet 
thick, almost as thick as it is on the St. Law¬ 
rence River. We set some twenty traps as fast 
as possible, for it was now near sundown, and 
scrambled up the bank, carrying our impedimenta 
with us, and made tracks for the sleigh. The 
way was long and dreary before we saw a light, 
which emanated from a house where we were. 
I have never forgotten that woman and her 
husband. The supper that was soon to be served 
was a regular New England Saturday night sup¬ 
per, consisting of hot brown bread and home¬ 
made butter, baked beans, coffee and apple sauce, 
and Sam and I ate as never men did before, 
unless they had been on short rations for a week. 
When we arrived at the lake next day, Sam 
said: “Now, you go down and pull up the 
traps, and I will stay here and look on, for I 
told my wife when I left home that I would not 
fish on Sundays.” 
“You did! Why, I thought you were a Bap¬ 
tist and not afraid of water.” 
Sam lingered on the bank, looking with long¬ 
ing eyes as I set forth to pull up the lines. Every 
line that I drew in had either a fine togue or fat 
pickerel attached to it, with exception of a few, 
from which the bait had been taken. As I pulled 
in the fish I saw Sam jumping up and down as 
if he were cold, and finally he sprang down the 
bank and commenced pulling up the lines and 
throwing out the fish without stopping to detach 
them from the hooks. 
A few minutes sufficed to rebait and replace 
the traps, and then Sam and I started across the 
lake to the island on the north side of which was 
a deep hole, wherein the fish gathered, and shel¬ 
tered by the island, we could fish without being- 
exposed to the full sweep of the wind. Here 
Sam cut a number of holes and I set the traps. 
Then he went over to the mainland to a cove, a 
little south of our first line of traps, and there he 
put in a number of others. Then he came back 
and said he would go up to the south end of the 
island, and there he would put in the remainder 
of the traps. 
Little did I think, as he departed, that my 
jesting words upon a Baptist being afraid of 
water on the Sabbath would come near to hav¬ 
ing a tragical conclusion. Sam was a good half- 
mile away from my position north of the island, 
and it would have taken a fast traveler through 
the snow to have gone the distance in ten 
minutes. While I was watching my traps and 
also casting a look occasionally to those on the 
line of the lee shores, and more especially those 
in the cove, I saw a. number of the traps flick 
up, and so started for them. I got over to the 
cove and succeeded in pulling in three fair fish 
and losing a fourth. I rebaited all the traps 
which were bare and stood for some time watch¬ 
ing them to see if there would be any more hun¬ 
gry rovers waiting for a meal. There was one 
trap in especial which occupied my diligent at¬ 
tention. It would fly up and drop back, and 
every time I pulled in the line the bait was gone. 
I concluded I had a dainty fish to deal with 
or a consummately cunning one, so I stepped up 
to the trap and waited for several minutes until 
up went the trap again. I grabbed the line and 
pulled in. The bait was gone. I rebaited and 
waited around until tired, so I walked back to 
my station by the island and proceeded to attend 
to business there. 
In a short time, having examined all of my 
lines I looked over to the cove, and behold, my 
especial trap was up again and wiggling back 
and forth at a great rate. I started on the run 
to get there in time, as I hoped, to secure the 
fish. About half way across the lake the ice 
broke under me, and down I went. I thought 
I was a goner sure enough, but suddenly I 
brought up in solid footing again. 
. The case was this: The first ice that formed 
had been covered by a heavy snow fall; upon 
that snow fell rain, and the snow was melted. 
Over that water ice again formed, and upon that 
ice subsequently a heavy fall of snow was de¬ 
posited. The water all around the margin of the 
lake was frozen solidly down to the bottom for 
a considerable distance from the shore. I scram¬ 
bled out of that chasm as quickly as possible 
and proceeded with a grateful heart and good 
hopes of catching the wiley fish that was still 
tugging at the fateful line. When I arrived these 
hopes fell, the hook was bare, the fish departed. 
Alas, for blasted hopes. “Bait it,” said I. 
“I’ll have you yet.” So I rebaited and then made 
all the noise I could as I went away. Having 
retired a few rods, I turned and walked care¬ 
fully back again, and presently I saw my traps 
flick and stooped gently over it and gave a quick 
and vigorous pull. And this time I had some¬ 
thing in earnest. The fish was fast. I hauled 
him in and eventually brought to bag a good six- 
pound pickerel. 
I took my good fish, and observing a lot of 
hungry crows around, I dug a hole in the snow 
and deposited it therein and carefully covered it 
up. Then I went back to my island as happy 
as a clam. I was for some time engaged in re¬ 
baiting and replacing my traps there, and when 
I looked up from my labors, I saw a congrega¬ 
tion of crows, all forming around the spot where 
I had concealed my big pickerel at the cove. 
I knew what they were up to as soon as I 
saw them and started on the run for them, but 
despite all my exertions, before I got there these 
harpies had uncovered and torn and picked my 
much prized pickerel half to pieces. To say that 
I was mad would not be correct, unless you 
should add severel intensitives, and I hurled ex- 
pletions after my departing guests, whom I ab¬ 
jured by all the names that suggested themselves 
in my vocabulary, as thieves, robbers and black- 
dyed villains, to which they answered with de¬ 
risive “caws” and perched themselves in plain 
view on top of the big pines on the shore, and 
no doubt enjoyed the reflection upon that sumptu¬ 
ous feast with little compunctions of conscience. 
Oh ! how I pined for a gun. 
“Confound those crows,” was the last thing 
I said as I turned to my traps again at the island. 
About four o’clock I saw Sam coming around 
the head of the island, bearing with him a large 
string of fish, and he had one pickerel taken out 
of the deep hole that weighed about eight pounds. 
I told Sam about my big fish, and the feast 
the crows had made of him, and all Sam said 
was: “I don’t blame the crows.” 
We had all the fish we wanted, however, 
and so many in fact that in order to get them 
from the lake to the sleigh we cut a lot of cedar 
AN UNCOMMON CARRIER. 
Photograph "by O. B. Waters, New Bern, N. C. 
