58o 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[April 13, 1907. 
vious day, we collected all the whale meat upon 
the beach and prepared to build a breakwater 
when the tide was low enough to permit. This 
we completed shortly before noon, and after 
eating a hurried lunch all hands set to work. 
The experiences of this day were practically the 
same as those of the previous one, but before 
5 o’clock in the afternoon we had carried the last 
bone up on the beach and sat down for a much 
needed rest. Tired we were, but happy, for at 
last the fight against the waves was ended, and 
the remaining work of cutting away the super¬ 
fluous meat and loading the skeleton and baleen 
into a freight car to be shipped to the museum 
was child’s play in comparison. And it was not 
long also before two wind-burned and frost¬ 
bitten young men boarded the train for New 
York, glad to return to the comforts of the city. 
Roy C. Andrews. 
The Hair Line. 
Montreal, March 11.— Editor Forest and 
Stream: A hair line is a paradox. If you hand 
one of those most excellent twisted linen lines, 
the Cuttyhunk, to an unsophisticated friend, and 
ask him to try and break it, he will accept your 
challenge with a scornful smile. After giving 
the line a hard jerk, you will notice his manly 
features assume a chastened expression, and the 
next moment he is holding up a finger and gaz¬ 
ing at it with a most sympathetic attitude, find¬ 
ing the flesh cut to the bone. 
Then take a well made hair line, give it a 
gentle pull, and it snaps like a shoe thread; and 
yet the writer used one for several years. One 
afternoon when fishing at Whitefish Lake, two 
miles from Bouchette, in the Gatineau Valley, 
Quebec, Canada, he caught twenty-eight small- 
mouth black bass, trailing with three flies, a 
Witcher, Lord Baltimore and Montreal. At one 
time he caught three at one time, weighing 4 
pounds, 2 >Ya pounds and 1^2 pounds. He has 
also landed pickerel up to 9 pounds with the 
same line. 
On another occasion, in another place, stillfish¬ 
ing with worms, he lost three nice bass in suc¬ 
cession, using a Cuttyhunk line. On replacing it 
with his hair line he never lost a fish for the 
rest of the afternoon. The stretching of the 
hair line makes all the difference. A fact, little 
known to your readers, is the hair of a mare’s 
tail is not so good as that of the horse. This 
is true, the hair of a mare’s tail is flat instead 
of round. Blenkhorn. 
The Forest and Stream may be obtained from 
any newsdealer on order. Ask your dealer to 
supply you regularly. 
Red Letter Days of Salmon Fishing. 
All good fishermen know it is not all of fishing 
to catch fish, but on the other hand, success in 
any branch of sport adds greatly to its enjoy¬ 
ment. All sportsmen have, I hope, certain days 
to which they look back with especial pleasure, 
when the birds lay particularly well to the dogs, 
when the big head was at last secured or when 
the fish rose with special eagerness. In no par¬ 
ticular sport is this more true than in salmon 
fishing, for I know of no sport which is more 
uncertain. The angler may travel thousands 
of miles, wait for weeks at a time at the river¬ 
side for the stream to get in order, and then 
with the pools full of fresh run fish, be unable 
even to secure a rise, while the veriest tyro may 
on another day with apparently all the con¬ 
ditions of water and weather against him, have 
splendid sport. 
For the last twelve years I have been an 
enthusiastic salmon fisher, and it is with the 
object of describing four of the reddest of red- 
letter days that this has been written. 
Late in the afternoon of July 14, 1905, we 
arrived at the Torrent River, cold, wet and dis¬ 
couraged after three weeks of unsuccessful fish¬ 
ing on the bleak Labrador, and glad indeed we 
were to at last be in a land where we could get 
shelter from the cold winds of the straits and 
at least get sufficient wood to have a real white 
man’s fire. We had reached the point when we 
had begun to think that salmon, at least salmon 
in plenty, were a thing only to be attained in 
the happy hunting grounds. 
The morning of the 15th opened bright and 
clear, and with old John Strout—who has since 
passed away, and with whom may the gods deal 
gently-—I started up the river, our camp having 
been made near the mouth. We found the 
stream to be a large noble one with many fine 
pools, but at the time of our visit to be in spate 
and at least two feet higher than it should be 
for good fishing. However, my day’s fishing 
resulted in the capture of four small fish, the 
largest of which was 6 pounds. On my return 
to camp I found an English man-o’-war 
anchored off the mouth of the river and that 
some of the officers had been ashore and had 
kindly asked my friend and I to dine with them 
that evening. We gladly accepted this invita¬ 
tion, and during the course of the evening one 
of the officers and I made arrangements to fish 
the Northeast Brook together the next day. 
This is a small river which flows into Hawk 
Bay about a mile and a quarter from the 
Torrent. 
Six o’clock next morning found me at the 
mouth of this stream, and after a short wait, my 
companion arrived. The day proved to be cold 
and windy with a constant drizzle accompanied 
by an occasional heavy shower; in fact, a more 
unpropitious day could not well be imagined. 
Our plan was to walk up stream about six 
miles and then fish down. We had not gone 
far before I felt all my high hopes of at last 
getting good fishing figuratively oozing out 
through my dripping boots. By nine thirty 
o’clock we had not seen a fish, and from this 
point, about six miles up, we decided to fish 
down, my companion and I taking alternate 
pools. 
My first pool was a long, deep, narrow, rapid j 
sheet of water, overhung on one side by a high I 
wall of rocks and shallowing to a rocky beach 
on the opposite shore. Here in the course of 
an hour and a half’s fishing I had twelve rises 
from at least five different fish, all of which 
came short although I tried my smallest flies 
(No. 9) and finest leaders, and then, in despera¬ 
tion, went straight through my fly-book and 
finally got one fish of 9 pounds on a No. 8 
black-fairy. My next pool was a broad rather 
shallow one, thickly strewn with large boulders. 
Here I got another fish of about the same size, 
and my companion joining me, we decided to 
have lunch. I had stopped fishing as soon as 
I got this last fish, intending to rest the pool 
and go over it again after lunch. 
While the guides were getting a fire ready, my 
companion picked up my rod and began idly 
threshing the pool, remarking at the same time 
on the superior action of my rod, he himself be¬ 
ing sadly handicapped by a badly under¬ 
weighted article. He had only been casting for 
a few minutes when he raised and hooked a 
nice fish which I had the pleasure of gaffing 
for him. 
After lunch we went on down the stream, and 
by evening, when we arrived at the mouth of 
the brook, I had nine salmon, ranging from 8 
to 12 pounds, and had lost two others. This 
day’s catch was a good example of the 
capriciousness of these fish. Why they would 
not rise at nine or ten o’clock will always re¬ 
main a mystery, as my first pool was full of 
fish, all of which rose short. I may add that 
later on I caught a number of fish in this pool. 
The next day I came over early to this river 
and fished hard all day and killed ten salmon, 
all fresh fish, the largest of which was 20 
pounds, although, as a rule, the fish in this river 
ran very even in size, about 9 to 11 pounds. 
Both days were cold, rainy and windy. The 
Northeast Brook is a small stream not much 
larger than a big trout brook and can be 
easily fished with a 13-foot rod. There are 
very few trout and not many grilse, at least 
until late. The stream abounds in pools. The 
walking is fairly good along the banks and the 
scenery is beautiful. During the ten days we 
were on this stream there were comparatively 
few black flies or mosquitoes. On the two days 
just described I fished hard and killed more 
salmon than I have ever killed in the same 
space of time. During the remainder of our stay 
on this stream I fished but a few hours each 
day and averaged three or four fish daily. I 
may say that the fish we did not use were 
smoked and given to our guides for winter use. 
The season of 1906 found my friend and I as 
eager as ever to be away to the salmon streams. 
To cut short a tale of woe, I will say that for 
the first five weeks of the season we fished 
three rivers in succession, including the well- 
known River of Ponds, which is a large river 
(for Newfoundland) and undoubtedly holds 
heavy fish, as I saw one, which had been caught 
by a lady, that weighed 30 pounds. However,! 
during my stay of twelve days I saw no others ! 
which approached this in weight. The river ' 
has many fine pools and a number of small 
lakes throughout its course, from which it de- 1 
rives its name. The river may be ascended - 
twenty miles in canoes, and in favorable seasons 
affords good fishing throughout its length. The 
fishing may be either from a canoe or bv 
wading. Personally, I prefer the latter plan!; 
and found a light 15-foot rod amply long 
enough to cover the water. While I was on 
looking up mattie’s river. 
