An Adventure of Two Boys. 
Editor Forest and Stream: 
There are trout in the stream which runs 
through our town. A fellow I know caught a 
two-foot—no, I guess it was a two-pound trout 
there. That is about the right size to give any 
stream a famous reputation. The town authori¬ 
ties made him stand up before a camera, hold¬ 
ing the trout in front of him, and, being in bet¬ 
ter focus, it looked nearly as big as he did in 
the picture. They had it printed on postals and 
it proved a great attraction to summer boarders. 
They used to go and fish there by the hour, and 
once a boarder caught one, I heard. It weighed 
half a pound. It was my highest ambition to 
catch a big fellow and have my picture put on 
a postal standing calmly behind it. But some¬ 
how I never had any luck. My father always 
seemed to think I could wield the lawn mower 
more profitably than the fishing rod. 
A few months ago I asked a fellow who is an 
expert fisherman to come out for a few days’ 
fishing. I thought he could catch those trout if 
any one could. We were to get up at 4 o’clock 
and go off quietly without disturbing the family. 
We did not get to bed quite so early as we ought, 
but set the alarm for 4 o’clock. It went off 
promptly at that hour—but we did not. 
“Grab that thing!” muttered Jack in his sleep. 
“Chuck it out the window!” And he was peace¬ 
fully snoring again before I had succeeded in 
restoring quiet by covering the clock with a 
feather bolster. 
Some scientist forestalled me in the discovery 
that it is injurious to the health to rise too sud¬ 
denly in the morning, so, in accordance with 
this conviction, I decided to get up gradually. 
A punch in the ribs finally roused me. 
“Hi, there, you lazy kid! Have you swal¬ 
lowed the clock? What’s the time? We ought 
to be hustling! Get a move on you!” came in 
a sharp whisper from Jack. 
But the feather bolster had disagreed with 
the clock and we had to guess at the time. It 
was cloudy and cold, and, as near as we could 
judge without the aid of the sun, half-past four 
or five. Hurriedly dressing and taking our shoes 
in our hands, we tiptoed downstairs. A sus¬ 
picious clatter of china caused us to pause and 
gaze at each other. Sitting down on the stairs, 
we hastily put on our shoes, combed our hair 
with our fingers, and, much to the astonishment 
of the family, sauntered carelessly into the din¬ 
ing room and took our seats at the breakfast 
table just as the clock struck eight. 
The accumulation of bait occupied half an 
hour. The early bird had evidently been ahead 
of us, and only a few dyspeptic looking worms 
were left. We were obliged to dig down a foot 
or two to find some of their lazy relatives. We 
finally started at nine, after assuring my mother 
that we should want nothing but trout for din¬ 
ner. 
The expert said that we should go up stream 
and fish down, as the lines would then float 
ahead of us, and we could more rapidly and 
easily pull in the trout without frightening them. 
So we walked five miles before casting in our 
lines, taking notice of every promising looking- 
pool, each privately determining to forestall the 
other in that particular spot on the return. 
When we looked for these same pools on our 
way back they had mysteriously disappeared. 
At last the experienced one consented to stop 
and let the fun begin. He decided to take the 
lead because he had more knowledge, and I de¬ 
cided to take it because 1 was handicapped by 
ignorance. Our arguments were both so con¬ 
vincing that we finally settled the matter by toss¬ 
ing up a cent; at least Jack settled it by getting- 
ahead of me while I was hunting for the cent 
in the brook. He was nearly out of sight when 
I found it, looking so absorbed and handling 
his rod so scientifically that it seemed a pity to 
disturb things by telling him that the oracle de¬ 
creed I should take precedence. 
Slipping through the bushes, I cautiously 
passed him and dropped my line in the first hope¬ 
ful looking spot. The details of fishing, when 
the fish are off on a holiday, are not interesting, 
so I will skip them. I am glad that my tongue 
did not utter “the thoughts that arose in me” 
when, for the nineteenth time, 1 excitedly pulled 
my line out and found only an empty hook. “I 
suppose Jack has a dozen by this time,” I said 
savagely. 
Moving further down the stream I caught 
sight of a fellow in the distance industriously 
fishing away. “Aha! the mystery is explained,” 
I thought. “That chap has been catching them 
all.” As I drew nearer ■ he seemed to have a 
familiar appearance. It was Jack. How or 
when he passed me I never knew. 
“I’ve got a bite! Look out, you chump !” and 
his line flew through the air, catching me in the 
neck, while a clammy, slippery dampness lodged 
somewhere in my shirt and flopped. 
“Catch him!” shouted Jack, and I hastily 
caught in my hand a small shiner which, in my 
disgust, I threw into the water. 
“Is that the kind of trout that grow in this 
stream?” inquired Jack. 
“Why, where are the rest of yours?” I asked. 
“1 he rest of mine are right there in the 
brook,” he replied with cold sarcasm. “Say, 
why didn’t we bring our guns and hunt bears. 
It’s more exciting, and just as much chance of 
finding them.” 
“Well,” I replied, “perhaps this isn’t the trout 
season. You know oysters and shad and straw¬ 
berries and baseball and most everything have 
a season, and so have trout.” 
“I guess it is a bit early, but I should think 
you’d know the habits of the trout that grow 
in this part of the country.” 
“I don’t feel as though it is too early for din¬ 
ner, anyway,” said I. “Let’s be getting nearer 
to it.” Then I emptied a gallon of water from 
my boot, Jack tied his' handkerchief around his 
hand where a fish hook had torn it, and we 
started sadly home. Lying on the edge of an 
old bridge, about half a mile from home, a 
familiar figure appeared. 
“There’s Hank Smith,” I said. “If he’s got 
any fish let’s buy them. Trout fishing, Hank?” 
“Naw! Fishin’ fer ’em yourself?” 
“Well, a few,” 1 replied vaguely. 
“Snarin’ suckers,” he explained, exhibiting a 
long string of those unpleasant looking fish. 
We watched him silently for a few minutes. 
He drew them in almost as fast as he could drop 
the stick, to which was attached a fine wire slip 
noose which was jerked tight over the head ot 
the unfortunate sucker who tried to dart through 
it. If there is any fish I despise it is a sucker, 
but probably my mother was as unfamiliar with 
suckers as with trout, I thought. Perhaps she 
would not know the difference. 
“What do you want for a half dozen of those 
largest suckers?” I asked Hank. 
“Well, seein’ it’s you, I might say a quarter,” 
said the old sinner, well knowing they were 
hardly worth a dime. But we should be saved 
the humiliation of going home empty-handed, 
and they might pass for trout with the uniniti¬ 
ated, I explained to Jack. We were soon pos¬ 
sessed of the suckers, while Hank pocketed my 
quarter. 
“It’s a little early for trout,” he volunteered, 
“and they’d have come considerable high if 
you’d caught any, because the law ain’t offen 
’em yet.” 
This information softened our disappointment, 
even though Flank’s evident satisfaction was 
irritating. 
Mother accepted the fish without comment, and 
though she looked at them sharply, fortunately 
asked no questions. 
“I’ll soon have them cooked,” said she cheer¬ 
fully. 
“Oh, never mind; somehow we don’t feel 
hungry for fish. It takes away my appetite for 
trout to catch them,” I explained. “The rest 
of the family can have them; there are so few. 
Please give us something else; we’re nearly 
starved.” 
In a short time she called us, and there, on 
the table, was a platter of smoking suckers and 
nothing else. 
“We wouldn’t deprive you of the fish, dear,” 
said mother. Trout are such a treat and you 
are tired out catching them, so you shall have 
them all.” 
We looked blankly at each other, but we de¬ 
served it. 
“All right, mother, but may we have some 
bread and butter, and a little milk, too?” 
“Yes, go and wash, and I’ll see what I can 
find,” she said. 
Coming back a few minutes later our ey"es 
were delighted and our noses regaled by the 
sight and odor of a delicious platter of steak 
in place of the fish and a dinner which seemed 
to two hungry boys fit for a king. I looked at 
mother and mother looked at me and we all 
laughed. 
“I’ve found it well to be prepared for your 
fishing excursions, you see,” said mother. “Now 
sit down and enjoy my steak while the cat is 
enjoying the suckers.” Curtis Crandell. 
