474 
FOREST AND STREAM 
fishermen to three hooks, meaning one set of 
treble hooks, which in its effects is just about 
as useful in conserving the fish as the one-hook 
law of Maine, simply compelling the tyro to be¬ 
come an expert as quickly as possible. 
Even in New York, where every style of rig 
is allowed by law, the expert will not use the bait 
rigged as it comes from the factory, but changes 
the hooks as soon as bought, lacing them in po¬ 
sitions where they know the fish will strike the 
bait. The tyro soon learns that it will not do 
to place a single gang in haphazard fashion on 
the bait, and the loss of a few fish makes him 
understand just what spot the hook must be in 
to hook every fish that comes near it. And once 
learned it becomes a much more murderous bait 
than any of those that are covered with six or 
seven sets of hooks, as most of the baits are that 
are used in New York. 
In the end the gang proves itself to be the 
most humane bait of them all, the fish being 
hooked lighter and consequently being harder to 
bring safely to boat than with the single set of 
hooks. 
This in theory may not seem to be true, but in 
practice will very soon prove itself to be so. 
Even the bait manufacturers are now equip¬ 
ping their baits with fewer hooks than formerly, 
gradually gravitating from the “small baits, lots 
of hooks” idea to the eventual use of but one set 
of three, the plan that the experts have been us¬ 
ing, but keeping quiet about, for a number of 
years past. 
Some fishermen claim that a bass invariably 
attacks a surface bait in a spiral motion, mak¬ 
ing a half turn in the ascent; others that the rush 
is straight. But they all agree that the bait is 
seized from underneath at a spot a little more 
than half way to the rear. Knowing this, they 
attach their one set of hooks accordingly, with 
no others to interfere, so that it will swing to 
just the position desired when the bait is reeled 
in at ordinary speed, the hooks in this way hang¬ 
ing from one and a half to two inches from the 
bait, and dropping fairly into the fish’s mouth 
before the bait is touched. Every strike means 
not only a fish hooked, but a fish boated as well, 
for the victim cannot shake it out when it is 
once half way down their throat. 
In the deep water type of bait, the single set 
of hooks works much in the same way, except 
that the hooks are placed directly in the rear and 
at about the same distance from the bait. 
In tackling a bait of this variety the fish has 
two ways of going about it. One is directly in 
front and the other in the rear, according to 
the speed at which the bait is traveling. When 
a bass sees a small fish or frog, which these baitC 
are made to represent, go : ng at a good speed, he 
will invariably seize it in the rear to disable it 
first. If going slowly, acting as if it were al¬ 
ready hurt, he does not take the trouble to dis¬ 
able it, but proceeds to swallow it offhand. Con¬ 
sequently, if the hooks are in the rear and the 
bait reeled at a good pace, the bass will, forty- 
nine times out of fifty, get hold of the hooks 
first. ’ 
In the end one is forced to admit that the 
bait covered with hooks set close to the body is 
the only one that gives a fish a fair chance for 
his life. The hooks, to prevent fouling each 
other, must be set close to the body, preventing 
the fish from seizing any one of them beyond 
the extreme point. 
Bass Fishing on the Upper Delaware 
An Interesting Little Story That Tells of Good Luck not so Many Miles 
from the big Eastern Cities 
By Newlin F. Davis. 
HE middle of July, after days 
of expectancy, I corralled my 
family, consisting of my wife 
and self and three kiddies, des¬ 
tined for the Upper Delaware, 
at Egypt Mills, Pa., about eight 
miles below Port Jervis. There 
the river is more like a moun¬ 
tain stream, perhaps only fifty yards wide, and 
largely rapids of the purest, clearest water to be 
found anywhere. 
Saturday evening found our little family at the 
river’s edge, across two fields from the house, 
eagerly reconnoitering for the future two weeks’ 
method of attack. 
A row-boat having been secured, I was up be¬ 
fore daybreak Monday morning, stealthily dress¬ 
ing and slipping downstairs after wifey’s usual, 
“Good-bye, good luck.” The first morning 
brought me a couple of fair-sized, small mouth. 
I had provided myself with a hundred night 
crawlers and they seemed to tempt the bass, 
which was nearly the only kind of fish caught, 
excepting river chub which we could not escape. 
These averaged from twelve to fifteen inches 
long, and the average size of the bass was about 
twelve inches. We had good catches with hel- 
grammites, red catties, worms, minnows and 
lamprey eels. The heavy boats and the swift 
current are factors that have to be dealt with, 
and in contrast to lake fishing for large mouth 
in Southern Jersey you can imagine we had some 
new and difficult problems with which to deal. 
I had counted on some good fly fishing in these 
waters; as Mr. Malcom A. Shipley, who knows 
this country, fishwise as well as otherwise, like 
a book, had lured me by tales of a 15-inch trout 
and many others that he had caught in the river 
on flies at the mouth of Toms Creek, a few 
miles below. The natives know little about fly 
fishing and Mose Briscoe, with whom we stayed, 
had little faith in one’s ability to take a bass 
from the river on a fly, although he admitted 
that fly fishing for trout in the streams nearby 
was successful. We only had one experience at 
trout fishing on this trip, and our experiences 
that day are a story in themselves, with which 
gentle reader you shall not be inflicted 1 Not¬ 
withstanding the cold water my friend had cast 
on river fly fishing I determined to give it a 
trial, with rather gratifying results; though as a 
steady diet it is no easy matter to keep the 
heavy row-boats, which were generously at our 
disposal (usually with a broken oar-lock or 
some other defect) under control in the swift 
water along shore or in the rifts, and cast accur¬ 
ately; one would find himself near center stream 
shooting dangerously toward the lower rifts after 
a dozen casts or more, having floated perhaps 
fifty yards or so in no time. But on one occa¬ 
sion, after finishing the last mouthful of a hur¬ 
ried supper with the family, just as the sun had 
settled down over the hills, I took up my pet 
fly rod, a red and white coaxer bait tied to the 
end of the leader and in a jump and a run had 
reached the water’s edge. In starting off I had 
displayed this piscatorial weapon to Mr. B., the 
doubter, and remarked that I had no bait; this 
was to go on record in case I should return with 
a fish. Hardly had I shoved off and beaten the 
shore with Mr. Coaxer a half dozen times before 
Whack! Splash 1 and I had struck. 
You know the electric thrill, only accentuated 
by the parting notes of the song birds and the 
rhythmic music of the water as in blessed soli¬ 
tude of evening I was fighting an unseen enemy, 
and no living being in sight to interfere. Soon I 
heaved a sigh of satisfaction as I held in my 
grasp a sixteen-inch pike. Then I crossed the 
river with a few strokes of the oar and soon 
landed a small-mouth bass on the same lure. 
(Continued on page 510) 
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