April, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
203 
I felt a sharp pain in my right ear, then 
my hat was rudely jerked off my head 
we smoked. We spent the evening talking 
about good things to eat and went to bed 
in disgust. 
Next morning we each took a big drink 
of water, pulled our belts a notch tighter 
and called it breakfast. Then we got on 
the raft and pushed off. I had my fly-rod 
and Ted a steel bait rod I had brought for 
him to fish with. In a tin tobacco box he 
carried a few frogs for bait which he had 
rounded up along the shore. We also 
threw on a canoe paddle with which to 
manipulate the raft. After considerable 
exertion we worked off into deep water. 
Ted baited up and dropped his frog over¬ 
board while I began casting. 
I T was an ideal day, but not for fly fish¬ 
ing, because the water was too glassy— 
what I silently prayed for was a bit of a 
breeze to ruffle the surface. I whipped 
away persistently changing flies now and 
then, but got never a rise. I was just 
going to ask Ted if he’d had a bite when 
I felt a sharp sting in my right ear and 
off went my hat! Whirling about I saw my 
lid sailing through the air on Ted’s hook! 
“Wot are you doin’?” I yelps. “I’m tryin’ 
to throw my hook like you do yours,” 
says Ted sheepishly. “Yeh,” says I, “and 
a fine job you tnade of it!—you got my 
hat and nearly one ear!” “I’ll do better 
after I’ve practiced a little,” says Ted. 
“Permit me to explain to you, Theodore,” 
says I very sarcastic, “that I’m fishin’ with 
a FLY ROD an you’re fishin’ with a BAIT 
ROD. You’re not supposed to slam your 
hook around carelessly through the atmos¬ 
phere, understand? All you have to do is 
to let your little froggie sink and wait for 
a bite. I only brought two eyes with me 
and I need ’em both in my business. Kind¬ 
ly pass the hat and resume your knitting.” 
With that I went to casting again while 
Ted kept growlin’ and grumblin’ under 
his breath. I overheard him tell him¬ 
self confidentially that he didn’t believe 
there was a - fish in the whole 
-- lake! Meaiywhile the listless calm 
persisted and the sun, well up by now, 
poured his rays mercilessly down upon us. 
I had stopped casting and begun to per¬ 
spire. After a long, strained silence Ted 
says in a casual tone: 
“Newt, wot makes my pole jiggle like 
that—I can’t hold it still?” Soon as I took 
a look I yells, “Man alive, you’ve got one 
on!” “One wot?” says Ted without the 
slightest sign of excitement. “One fish,” 
says I, “and a big one!—don’t hold your 
reel tight like that!—let it run!—give ’im 
more rope !” “Wot kind of a fish ?” drawls 
Ted. “How long has this been goin’ on?” 
I asks. “Oh, ’bout io minutes,” he answers. 
"Then it’s a big trout,” say I; “if it had 
In trying to avoid the slimy eel I stepped 
on it and skidded into the lake! 
been a salmon it would have broken water.” 
“Wot do you mean, broken water?” yawns 
Ted. “Aw, don’t ask so many fool ques¬ 
tions,” snaps I, “and give that trout more 
line or you’ll lose ’im!” “If I give him 
more line,” says Ted, “I’ll only have to 
bother windin’ it in again.” “Ted, I ought 
to take that rod away from you,” I roars; 
“man, you’ve got a monster trout on your 
hook and you show about as much sportin’ 
spirit as a hitchin’-post!” “Wot do you 
want me to do,” he asks; “act like a crazy 
man? One nut on a raft is enough.” Then 
he added, “I’ll bet that durn trout has 
mussed up my frog and spoiled it.” 
It made me righteously mad to see that 
poor simp sit there unconcerned and play 
fast and loose with a big, handsome trout 
that would probably weight three or four 
pounds. After a line or two of language 
that isn’t fit to print I told Ted to handle 
his catch to suit himself since he wouldn’t 
take advice and that if he lost the fish he 
would be taking food out of our mouths. 
H E held a .tight rein and the rod was 
bent into a half circle most of the 
time, but by some miracle the fish re¬ 
mained on the hook. Between struggles Ted 
was bringing him up. I quietly soaked the 
net. As he reeled in he kept peering over 
the side and finally says, “Gee-whizz, ain’t a 
trout a funny lookin’ thing!” “A trout,” 
says I, with reverence, “is one of the most 
beautiful creatures the Creator ever made.” 
“This one ain’t,” says Ted; “it looks like 
a snake to me.” “Like a wot!” says I 
steppin’ over behind him for a look and 
then steppin’ right back again—when the 
raft listed badly to port. Then he lifted 
his catch to the surface. “Good Lord,” I 
gasps, “it’s an eel !”■—and sure enough it 
was, a four footer anyhow! “Wot kind of 
a trout is an eel?” asks Ted. “A trout 
ain’t a eel,” snaps I; “a eel and a trout is 
-” “A trout-eel!” butts in Ted. “Yes,” 
says I all balled up, “that’s it—a trout and 
a eel is a trout-eel—naw, naw, it is NOT 
a trout-eel! You durn fool, there ain’t no 
sich animile as a trout-eel! A eel is -” 
“Allright, allright—don’t get peevish. 
Newt,” interrupts Ted; “one more question 
—is this thing good to eat?” “Some folks 
eat ’em,” says I. “Well,” says Ted, “we 
are the folks—here he comes!” 
Before I could protest he yanked that 
four feet of slippery, slimy, wriggly eel 
aboard the raft! I have no particular 
grudge against an eel, but I don’t like to 
have one skidding around my underpinning. 
The clammy thing hit me a slippery slap 
across the shin. I side-stepped quickly to 
keep from stepping on it and—stepped ON 
it! Glare ice was nothing compared with 
that eel. Both feet shot from under me 
It was a hard hike back to camp, but 
Ted’s eel slipped along slick as grease 
and off the raft and into the lake I 
splashed! Ted said afterward that before 
I came up a bunch of bubbles came ahead 
of me and that each bubble busted into a 
cuss-word when it reached the surface. 
By the time I had climbed back on the 
raft he had killed the eel with the canoe 
paddle. “For two cents,” I hisses, “I’d 
throw you into the lake for pushin’ me 
off!” “I don’t care if you do,” he answers; 
“I’m too hot anyhow—is the water cool?” 
“Yes, it is!” I snarls. “Besides,” says Ted, 
“I didn’t push you off—you stepped on my 
eel and slipped off—look at the scar you 
made on him—you nearly ruined him.” I 
didn’t say any more—what was the use! 
Interested in Ted’s wrestle with the con¬ 
founded eel I had failed to notice that a 
brisk breeze had come up and that we had 
drifted half way across the lake. “Gimme 
that canoe paddle!” I says sharply tryin’ 
to make out camp. “That’s funny,” says 
Ted. “Wot’s funny?” says I. “Where IS 
the canoe paddle?” says Ted. I looked 
around—the canoe paddle was gone! “I’ll 
tell you,” says Ted showing signs of almost 
human intelligence, “I think the canoe pad¬ 
dle must have slid off the raft.” . I knew 
it had slid off the raft because I could see 
it shining on the waves a couple of hundred 
yards to windward, but I said nothing— 
there are times when even profanity will 
not express human emotions! 
Willewagassett at this point was over a 
mile wide and the wind continued to 
freshen—in fact it got so fresh that white- 
caps began to break over the raft which 
rocked and reared and groaned as the old 
he-rollers slid under it. Every minute I 
looked for it to break up. Ted seemed to 
be enjoying the voyage, but that was be¬ 
cause he didn’t have enough sense to real¬ 
ize our danger. We hung on desperately 
and as the opposite shore approached I 
crouched and made ready to spring when 
the raft struck, yelling at Ted to do the 
same. But when I jumped ashore Ted’s end 
of the raft dipped, his foot slipped and in 
he went to his neck! As he waded drip- 
ing ashore he blamed me for ducking him. 
I was not guilty, but I was glad. 
A I'TER I had cut the hook out of the 
eel’s month Ted says, “Newt, how 
are you gonna carry that eel ?” “How 
am I gonna carry it?” says I with the ac¬ 
cent on the “I”—“I am NOT gonna carry 
it. This is your eel, Theodore, and you’re 
gonna have the honor of carryin’ it.” Then 
we started around the shore to camp. I will 
not dwell on that trip. It was all of three 
miles through brush, swamp, brambles and 
blow-downs. On top of this we had been 
fasting since the night before and it was 
(continued on page 236) 
