FOREST AND STREAM 
451 
Good Chance for a Fine Buck 
“ Highlands of Ontario” 
For Big Game 
RESULT OF A WEEK’S HUNT 
Deer and Moose abound in all that district known as the "Highlands of Ontario” reached by 
Grand Trunk Railway System 
Open Season 
Deer—November 1st to November I 5 th inclusive. 
Moose—November 1st to November 15 th inclusive. In some of the Northern districts of 
Ontario, including Temagami, the open season is from October 16th to November 
I 5 th inclusive. 
Open Season for Small Game in Province of Ontario 
Ducks—September 15th to December 15th inclusive. In what is known as the Northern 
District of Ontario open season is from September 1st to 15th December inclusive. 
Geese-September 15th to April 15th inclusive. 
Plover-September 15th to December 15th inclusive. In what is known as the Northern 
District of Ontario open season is from September 1st to 15th December inclusive. 
Quail—November 15th to December 1st inclusive. 
Partridge—October I 5th to November 15th inclusive. 
Snipe—September 15th to December 15th inclusive. In what is known as the Northern 
District of Ontario open season is from September 1st to 15th December inclusive. 
Woodcock-October 1st to November 15th inclusive. 
Hares-October 1st to December 15th inclusive. 
Squirrels-November 15th to December 1st inclusive. 
Write to the undersigned agents for copy of “Haunts of Fish and Game” containing 
maps, Game Laws and all particulars. 
J. D. McDonald, Room 917, Merchants Loan & Trust Bldg., Chicago; F. P. Dwyer, 
290 Broadway, New York; E. H. Boynton, 256 Washington St., Boston; A. B. Chown, 507 
Park Bldg., Pittsburgh; J. E. Edwards, 285 Main St., Buffalo. 
G. T. BELL, 
Passenger Traffic Manager, Montreal. 
H. G. ELLIOTT, 
General Passenger Agent, Montreal. 
salmon, and I ihfdlled each time with anticipa¬ 
tion of the time when I should hook my first 
one; what fighters they were. 
Each and every time out, I had changed my 
lure; sometimes I blessed it, and sometimes I 
omitted that rite, but always with the same re¬ 
sult. George and I had come to no conclusion 
as to which of us it was that should he thrown 
overboard. 
After we came in Friday, George vowed that 
he was “goin’ to git” me a spoon that had 
never yet failed to hook one, and soon he dis¬ 
appeared. He was gone two hours on his er¬ 
rand, and when he returned, and showed me the 
spoon, my hitherto peaceful nature began to 
change. My gorge arose. Was it not enough 
to have spent a week thus fruitlessly? Must I 
be made the butt of one of his clumsy jokes? 
I was about to fall on him, and smite him, but 
his volubility in proclaiming its merits; his 
pointing with pride to the battle scars on it; his 
assurance, given with simple earnestness, of his 
faith in it; convinced me that he at least was 
convinced of its efficacy, and I relented. 
“But George! you’ve got the one for whales,” 
I told him. “The spoon itself is as big as a sal¬ 
mon.” Eight inches long it was, and two inches 
wide at the swell. George acknowledged the ap¬ 
parent clumsiness, but renewed his assurances 
of its virtues. Ah well! we couldn’t have any 
worse luck, and anyhow it would be in the water 
and out of sight, so no one could laugh quietly 
in their sleeve at me. I resolved to try it. 
Saturday was my last day, and we started out 
again early; hopeful as ever, but with perhaps a 
less degree of enthusiasm. It was now or never, 
and if the whale spoon failed, then indeed I must 
acknowledge defeat. 
On our way we came tipon a brother Who had 
just hooked one, so that we had an orchestra 
seat from which to witness the performance. 
His first flight ended in the air not ten feet 
from our boat, and right in front of my very 
eyes. My heart jumped wildly. We waited to 
watch the battle, and my lure dropped unheeded 
to the bottom. 
There he arose again, a hundred feet away 
this time, with a mighty splash; shaking himself 
madly and dropping clumsily back. Back and 
forth I watched his rushes, and leaps, and 
plunges with breathless excitement, until, tired 
at last, he was brought to net and landed, fight¬ 
ing to the very last. 
I sighed. A great, deep, serious sigh. Shade 
of Izaak, help me to get one! 
“Well, let’s try the new lure, George.” George 
had been watching interestedly too. “Wait a 
minute; it's caughit.” I began to reel it in 
heavily. 
“What do you bet I’ve got, George?” 
“Got a limb most likely,” he guessed. 
“Or an old boot,” I added. But neither of us 
was right; it was an old pair of cast off 
trousers. 
We got under way once more, and moved si* 
lently along. 
“Bet they’ll think that spoon is the propeller 
of an ocean liner, George.” 
George grins. “What’s the odds ’slong’s you 
git ’em.” 
“That’s true, George, it doesn’t matter in the 
least.” 
One hour, two hours, we keep at it; at last 
hopelessly I order the return. We are moving 
along calmly, when suddenly I feel again that 
thrilling tug on the line; this time accompanied 
by a businesslike wriggling. Away goes my line 
zipping through the water, and then far out at 
the end of it, there is a splash; a disappointingly 
small one it is, but still interesting. 
“Lord, you’ve got one!” says George; and I 
do not fail to notice the note of thankfulness io 
his voice. 
“That was the spoon that made that splash,” 
I remark. “He must be a big one to bring that 
spoon out of the water, George.” 
Slowly but surely I work him up to the net, 
and George gets him. 
“Get the scales quick, George.” 
His Royal Highness is unhooked and weighed. 
“What’s that, not quite, you say?” 
“No, one ounce shy,” announces George. 
My first salmon tips the scales at fifteen ounces. 
Sitting in my office, gazing unseeing out over 
the se'a of buildings; past the city’s limits; 
across the country; on, on, imagination flies, 
and stops not until the little log cabin is reached. 
The little log cabin among the pines; among the 
pines by the rippling blue-green of the lake. The 
smell of the pines steals in to me; I feel the 
tang in the air; the odor of delectable food is 
wafted to me; the boon companions sit with me 
by the cheery crackling log fire in the cool of 
the evening; we agree with each other, or we 
quarrel mildly; and either way is good. 
