FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Dec. 5, 1908. 
890 
John and I, with two others, tried light equip¬ 
ment up in Canada.” 
‘‘Was it when you dumped all your duffle into 
Thirty Island Lake before you had even got 
set up ?” Robert meekly inquired. 
‘‘No, it wasn’t then, although we were plenty 
light enough to suit me the rest of that trip,” 
Billy went on. “It was at Thirty Island Lake, 
but another season. We were camped in a log 
shanty which the lumbermen had used for a 
granary the year before. Someone had laid up 
a few stones in one corner for a fire-place, but 
it wasn’t a very good job, and we had to watch 
the sparks pretty sharp. All four of us slept 
on the floor, and one night I woke up most 
choked to death. I could see what was going 
on through the smoke. The fire had leaked out 
and followed the lower log half way across the 
room to the door, and it was blazing up good 
and brisk. You better believe I wasn’t long in 
punching John and yelling to the others. You 
see, there wasn’t any window in the place, and 
we were just about trapped. The door was fast¬ 
ened with a wooden plug, and John and I clawed 
around in the smoke a good while before we 
found it. Finally we got out and legged it to 
the lake for water. The ground was frozen 
and pretty humpy, and we didn’t have anything 
on but our shirts. Before we’d got water enough 
to put the fire out I had experimented in light 
equipment about as far as I cared to go. I 
stubbed one of my big toes and swung it around 
so far out of line that it was more than a week 
before I could get it to track with the others.” 
Coming down the path on the opposite side 
of the creek a boy appeared, switching the laurel 
leaves with a beech sprout and whistling, “March¬ 
ing Through Georgia.” A solemn old hound 
trotted along after him, and the pair came to a 
sudden stop when they saw the group about the 
fire. The dog seemed a little in doubt whether 
to be on his guard or to wag his tail, but the boy 
just stared. 
“Want to earn a quarter?” Jim called to him. 
Anxiety to get the money and a suspicion that 
he was being fooled, resulted in a rather diffi¬ 
dent “Yes.” 
Jim went to the edge of the water and threw 
a silver dollar across. It fell a little short of 
the lad, but he grabbed it like a hawk does a 
June bug. 
“Go down to the grocery and get two or three 
pounds of cheese and a bag of crackers, and 
come back on this side of the creek,” Jim in¬ 
structed. 
That the boy had perfectly good legs was evi¬ 
dent. for in less than a half minute he was out 
of sight. 
“There is light equipment for you, Robert,” 
said Billy, who had been taking account of the 
makeup. One torn straw hat, one calico shirt, 
one suspender, and a pair of man’s overalls 
with most of the legs cut off were all the lad 
seemed to have with him. As if to prove that 
he was concealing nothing in the way of under¬ 
clothing, his elbows stuck out of his shirt and 
a right-angled tear in the seat of his trousers 
flopped as he ran. 
“The best rig a boy can wear. Any rich young 
un’ would envy him if he could see him,” Robert 
replied as he watched the retreating form. 
“That's good talk.” Billy observed, “but you 
are shivering with four shirts on.” 
“Four shirts! yes, arid all put together they 
ain’t so thick as the hole on his elbow,” Robert 
retorted. 
“Say Jim, what are you going to do with all 
that cheese?” Henry asked. 
“Toast it, of course. Did you think I was 
going to bait traps with it?” 
The whole party broke into a laugh, for they 
remembered that Henry disliked cheese in any 
form, an'd a Welsh rarebit he could not abide. 
“Well, you’ve picked a fine lunch for me. I 
shall enjoy it about like finding a skunk in the 
woodshed. Give me that fly you’ve got on your 
hat there.” 
Jim handed the brown hackle to Henry who 
immediately began turning over the stones along 
the bank. Grabbing a worm that was too slow 
in drawing itself into its hole, he baited the 
hook and tied it to a broken fish line which he 
found in his pocket. Cutting a birch sapling, he 
was soon prepared for fishing. Luck was with 
him, and before he had tried many times he 
pulled out a ten-inch trout. Knocking the fish’s 
head on a stone he unhooked it and threw the 
tackle across the creek. Dressing his catch, he 
held it upon a forked stick and had it nearly 
broiled by the time the boy returned. 
“Now,” said Henry, as he reached for the 
cracker bag, “if you fellows think you are going 
to leave me out of this feast you have another 
guess coming.” 
The boy was invited to stay, and between hav¬ 
ing a quarter in his pocket and plenty of toasted 
cheese in his stomach, he seemed to regard the 
burden of life quite calmly. 
“How far do you live from here?” Robert 
asked. 
“Most four miles.” 
“Which way?” 
“Up there,” and he pointed in the direction 
of the woe-be-gone Peppermint Hollow road. 
“Always lived there?” 
“Grandma and ma and me has lived there as 
long as I can remember.” 
There was no mention of a father, and Robert 
waited a minute before proceeding with his 
questions. 
“Ever fish any?” 
“Yes, most every day.” 
“Catch any?” 
“Lots of ’um.” 
“What do you do with them?” 
“We eat ’um.” 
“What kind of a rod do you use?” 
“’Tain’t a rod; it’s a birch pole.” 
“Did you ever use a jointed rod?” 
“No, but I’ve seen some slick ones, and I’m 
goin’ to have one when I get growed up.” 
“There, Robert,” Billy broke in, “you’ve found 
your boy.” 
“I guess so,” Robert replied, and the boy, 
though mystified, asked no questions. 
Now, Robert, by accident the previous sea¬ 
son, had strained one joint of his rod so that 
its days of fly-casting were over, but it could 
still be used with reasonable comfort for bait- 
fishing. Since, in his eyes, bait-fishing was an 
unpardonable sin, he had decided to give the 
rod to some boy, and had been watching for a 
boy who just took his fancy. The rod had re¬ 
mained all the year in Mrs. Turner’s store room, 
but now it looked as if its rightful heir had ap¬ 
peared. 
“When are you going home?” Robert asked 
of the lad. 
“I ain’t in no great hurry. Ma said she’d milk 
the cow if I was late.” 
“All right, then; you just hang around with 
us until we go to the house and we’ll give you 
some fish hooks.” 
The appetites of the party beginning to be 
pretty well satisfied, so far as toasted cheese 
was concerned, and Henry having eaten his salt¬ 
less fish with a good deal of determination, they 
fell to giving the hound a feast. He acquired 
a full grown taste for melted cheese at one 
gulp and stood a ready receptacle until the last 
morsel had passed out of sight. 
“Guess you’d have to roast a whole cheese 
factory if you wanted to fill Snoozer up. Bein’ 
hungry seems to come terrible natural to him,” 
the boy observed, and Snoozer, hearing his name, 
looked around at his master and wagged his tail. 
When the stories were all told and the pipes 
burned out and a film of gray ash had crept over 
the fire, they sauntered back to Mrs. Turner’s 
in a much better frame of mind than they had 
started away. Robert brought out the rod, while 
Jim produced a discarded reel, and the balance 
of the company found an extra line and some 
flies. When the Peppermint Hollow boy learned 
that he was to be the owner of all this, words 
failed him, but he was a picture to look at. 
After handling and rehandling and gripping 
every article tight, to make sure that it was not 
dream stuff, he managed to say, “You’re much 
obliged,” and started home. Four times, within 
sight of the house, he stopped and opened the 
end of the rod case to peep in. Four times he 
took the reel from his pocket, and looking it 
over carefully, turned the crank. 
After supper the party gathered on the bridge 
which spans the Esopus and watched the day 
prepare to depart. First it set its big light down 
behind a hill and took up its long shadows. 
Then it sent the chickens to roost and hushed 
the birds. A detail of bullfrogs marched out 
and began their watch along the stream, sound¬ 
ing their locations in deep tones. The peep frogs 
set up a din to keep bad dreams away, and the 
cows lay down. The vapor-like darkness, flow¬ 
ing down from the western mountains, swept 
the tints of day before it up the eastern slopes 
until in a radiant billow they rolled over the 
crest out of sight. Then the big round moon 
came up and the silent bats darted across it. 
“How long are you fellows going to stay 
here?” Billy asked; “I ought to be at home 
helping Lucy.” 
“I want to stay until we get one day of good 
fishing,” Jim replied, and he seemed to voice 
the sentiments of the others. 
“We are going to get that to-morrow,” Robert 
observed. “The east wind let up about 4 o’clock, 
and now that breeze from the south feels warmer 
than anything we’ve struck yet.” 
“That’s just what I’d been thinking,” said 
Henry. “See that hazy sky working up over 
Tice Teneyck?” 
Their weather predictions were verified, and 
the morning brought a thickening sky and an 
air that had a trouty feeling. The fish were 
equally quick to recognize the signs. Scarcely 
had the anglers distributed themselves along the 
stream when one rod was seen to yank violently 
and then settle itself to a steady bend as a big 
brown trout sailed off down stream with a hun¬ 
dred and fifty feet of line. But this did not 
attract so much attention as it would have done 
