December, 1918 
FOREST AND STREAM 
703 
Not record strings or record fish, but the tangible reminder of a happy day 
this time and after he was completely tired 
out we landed him safely in the boat, Minn 
happy with the first fish, and I glad that 
she got it, yet a little jealous of it too. 
We looked him over with that content¬ 
ment that only comes to a fisherman after 
he has landed his prize. We replaced the 
treble hooks that he had wrenched into all 
kinds of shapes on her bait, with new ones, 
and on we went. 
An occasional “muskie” strike and sev¬ 
eral good bass catches kept our spirits 
high while we were planning the spot 
where we should cook our dinner. We 
almost had our minds off of fishing and 
were casting out rather mechanically when 
Charlie and I heard the splash that always 
is there when a muskellunge strikes a sur¬ 
face bait. We looked around and Minn 
was already busy and a little impatient 
that Charlie hadn’t started for the deep. 
The fish was making his rush for the deep 
this time and going fast. Charlie saw the 
line he was taking and quickly had the 
boat following him. 
This old boy didn’t particularly like the 
capers in the air and after his first lunge 
he kept hunting the bottom. He was tire¬ 
less in his fight, however, and it was just 
about 25 minutes when we got him near 
enough to see his big form and angry eyes 
in the clear water below. Minn bade us be 
careful, for she surely wanted to land him, 
when I gave a shrill yell. This just un¬ 
nerved her enough that she gave the jerk 
on the line that put renewed fight into him 
and while she was telling me what she 
thought about it Mr. Muskie was taking 
more line and Charlie laughing at the 
sport. Only a few moments, however, and 
her whole attention was concentrated on 
the job in hand and she began reeling in. 
The big boy was pretty tired and in about 
ten minutes conquered. With these two 
“muskies” and our bass we decided to pull 
for shore and make the camp fire. 
Charlie was a guide of several 
years’ experience and took delight in 
taking on his shoulders all responsi¬ 
bility, to make things pleasant; but we 
didn’t allow him all the pleasure of mak¬ 
ing the camp fire. While he was dressing 
the fresh fish for the fry Minn and I 
so that the fork at the top was directly 
above the fire and hung the coffee bucket 
on it. The frying pan was then filled with 
bacon and while Charlie was frying the 
bacon and fish, Minn and I were toasting 
bread. It was only a few minutes until 
we had a delicious meal—a platter heaped 
with fresh fish, fried brown, some choice 
bacon and hot buttered toast with hot 
coffee. What more could a king want 
when he was right in the middle of a fine 
day’s fishing? 
When dinner was over Charlie and I 
took a smoke and while Minn enjoyed the 
aroma from the mixture of our pipe and 
cigar, we talked over what we had done 
and what we were going to do before 
darkness should end our sport. 
This rest after the noonday meal is one 
of the brightest spots of the day. Let 
those who will snatch a sandwich and race 
madly back to the fishing—the seasoned 
angler takes his ease for awhile and plans 
the rest of the day’s campaign. 
For the afternoon we decided to move 
back toward camp on the opposite side of 
the lake. It is about four miles around 
Little Sand, making one full day’s fishing 
to cover all the bays, bars and old logs, 
casting along the shore. I had landed sev¬ 
eral bass in the morning but hadn’t got my 
“muskie” and the tension was getting pretty 
tense. As we moved out into the water I 
began to cast in dead earnest with Minn 
right after me. Each of us had landed 
two or three bass when the attention of all 
three was centered right on my bait. The 
very “muskie” I wanted picked it out and 
hit it hard. He was a big one (when we 
took him in for mounting he weighed 22 
pounds), and one of those fish that believes 
his best chance to get away is to concentrate 
a lot of fight in a few moments at the end 
of your line. He also preferred the sur¬ 
face and free air for his battleground. The 
moments that he put up his strongest ef¬ 
forts were necessarily short, but they 
seemed long and were long enough for 
me to speculate on whether my line was 
going to hold, but it did. Then he made 
the familiar rush under water for the deep 
and we went with him. It took us several 
minutes to. tire him, then we reeled him 
Also twenty-six fine black bass 
and bait. He struck water on the other 
side and followed this with a run of about 
25 yards, when I stopped him and brought 
him back again. This time I landed him 
successfully and it was some relief to get 
the big fellow safely in the net. 
A FTER this first strike and catch we 
each had occasional lunges at our 
baits only to see the fish turn and 
go for deep water without hitting. We 
were rounding the last sand bar when an¬ 
other muskellunge hit center, this time 
again, on my bait. His fight was similar to 
and characteristic of the three others that 
I have described and about the same time 
was consumed before we landed him. 
We agreed that honors for the day were 
about even and started for the camp. When 
we landed we counted and strung twenty- 
six bass and four muskellunge. The bass 
weighed 45 pounds and the muskellunge 52 
pounds. The largest bass weighed 4 pounds 
5 ounces and the prize “muskie” tipped 22 
pounds. The day was complete for me 
and the memory of it is so vivid that I 
get almost the original pleasure every time 
I recall it. 
This was our best day’s catch out of 
fourteen days’ fishing, during which time 
we caught 32 muskellunge and 204 bass. 
Of the 32 muskellunge 19 were 30 inches 
in length or more, which is the legal size 
in Minnesota and the others were thrown 
back for future sport. 
In this fishing we confined all our efforts 
to casting, using nothing but surface bait, 
contrary to the advice of old-timers who 
trolled almost exclusively. 
This story is not fiction. It is true and 
is written in order that some kindred spirit 
may share our enjoyment. 
hustled out among the birch and jack pine 
and gathered up an armload of dry birch 
limbs apiece. We returned to within sight 
of our boat and on a clear spot under an 
old pine tree soon had our fire wood 
crackling in the blaze. 
When Charlie came up with his . lunch 
kit we were ready for business. He took 
a green stick, set it in the sand at an angle 
into the boat. He first appeared to view 
underneath and at the back end of the boat 
where Minn was sitting. He was coming 
up fine when he spied her sitting there 
near him. Right then and there he made 
his final great effort. He leaped almost 
straight into the air, surging like a demon, 
went completely over the boat and Minn’s 
head which she ducked to miss the fish 
