LANDED HUGE LAKE TROUT 
LETTERS— 
QUESTIONS— 
ANSWERS 
(Continued from page 309) 
It was about five o’clock 
that afternoon when, as we 
were going around Birch 
Point, Mr. Alford’s hook be¬ 
came fastened in a snag in 
the water and I backed the 
boat up that we could free 
the tackle. In a very few 
seconds after we had started 
on again, Mr. Alford hooked 
a trout. 
That he was a large one 
we were certain, for he did 
about as he pleased with us. 
Mr. Alford had only 100 feet 
of line and when the trout 
would begin a rush I simply 
had to follow him with the 
boat to prevent his running 
out all the line and breaking away. 
The line was rigged with two flies, a 
trolling spoon and a single gut leader, 
and it was a pretty light outfit for a 
large fish. Mr. Alford kept a firm hold 
on the line, but he did not pull very 
much, nor did he permit the fish to pull 
very hard, either. 
As the battle progressed, one boat 
after another was attracted to the 
scene, and before we knew it there 
were four boats containing fishermen, 
watching us with great interest. The 
trout was boss of us and made us 
follow him back and forth until after 
7 o’clock, when he began to get tired. 
At half past seven we managed to get 
him into the boat after a struggle 
lasting two and one-half hours. The 
trout weighed sixteen pounds and as 
soon as he was well secured, Mr. Al¬ 
ford slid exhausted from his seat to 
the bottom of the boat, where he re¬ 
mained until we assisted him to land 
at the clubhouse. 
Henry Kingman, 
Saranac Lake. 
ONE OF NATURE’S 
TRAGEDIES 
Dear Forest and Stream : 
One day while I was fishing for bass 
in Brick House Slough, above Alton, 
Ill., I saw a near tragedy of water life 
that struck me as quite interesting. 
I was anchored in water about eight 
feet deep and about forty feet from 
shore enjoying a “ri dawon good 
smuk,” as Uncle Lish would have said. 
About fifty feet in front of me were 
two logs about twenty feet long, 
fastened together with boards nailed 
near each end. One end was about 
five inches out of the water and the 
other flush with the surface. A board 
about a foot wide lay across the center 
and extended out over the log nearest 
me about eight inches. Beyond the 
two logs lay another, about eight 
eight inches in diameter and twelve 
feet long. Some three feet farther on 
was a stump flush with the water, and 
a drift of sticks about the same dis¬ 
tance extending to the shore. 
As I glanced over the logs a frog- 
appeared seemingly from nowhere and 
came hopping up on the board near 
the centre, stopping at the edge. He 
looked my way and deciding everything 
was safe, appeared to go to sleep. A 
few minutes after there was a slight 
movement at the end of the logs, flush 
with the water, and a large black 
snake, some five feet long slid silently 
upon the log. I thought he had come 
up for a sunbath, so slipped out my 
Colt .44 with the intention of giving 
him a warm reception. But he com¬ 
menced to move up the log toward the 
frog. He had five feet to crawl and it 
took him at least five minutes to cover 
the distance Then he started to coil 
for a strike. 
The frog had moved over to the edge 
of the board, away from the snake, 
so he had not been asleep after all. The 
snake could not reach him so he began 
to move nearer. Then the frog acted 
as though he had just seen him, and 
started to jump into the water. In¬ 
stead of jumping he became rigid, and 
almost fell in, but regained himself in 
a . second. In the water, where he had 
started to jump, there was a swirl. 
The snake struck and I thought he 
had him, but Mr. Frog jumped 
to one side, turned around in 
the air, and landed on the log 
about two feet from the snake. 
The next time I saw him he 
was hopping across the board 
at the upper end and Mr. 
Snake was still coiled up on 
the board and looking for him. 
The frog hopped back down the 
other log until he was about 
two feet from where the snake 
was. Mr. Snake had his eye 
on him and struck as the frog 
jumped to the twelve-foot log, 
but missed him by three 
feet. 
The frog hopped along the 
log, landed on the stump, 
jumped to the driftwood and 
disappeared. Mr. Snake was 
certainly mad, but he finally 
got over it, coiled up and was 
having a good sunbath, when 
I made a slight move. Up 
came his head, the Colt barked and off 
came his head. He thrashed around 
and fell in; where he went down there 
was a great swirl and all was over. 
Did the frog use his head when he 
saw Death in the water and Death be¬ 
hind him? Or was it all luck? 
Press Cutler, Oregon. 
ADVENTURES IN 
COMRADESHIP 
(Continued from page. 297) 
Again we were all impressed—and 
amused—by the vision seen through 
the clear waters. The snappers were 
there in plenty, after having foraged 
elsewhere a little while. This hole was 
obviously a favorite with them. There 
was thrill in watching the big, curi¬ 
ous-eyed, shrewdly inquisitive fellows, 
as they “smelled around” the remnants 
of Mike’s last “chumming.” 
It was now or never, for night was 
fast coming on. And I had no desire 
to keep Sonnyboy out much after dark, 
in this particular locality. 
And Mike’s reputation as a prophet 
suffered. 
It was a partnership in Mangrove 
Snappers. Father, Son and Company 
did the heavy work that day. 
We caught two—almost at the self¬ 
same second. 
Sonnyboy’s line tightened first. It 
came so suddenly that it caught him' 
off his guard, and he fumbled the haul; 
twice the line slipped from his nervous 
fingers, and twice he made a frantic 
scramble for it. Mike’s excitement 
was so great that he came near scuffling 
off the stern. 
“Pull . . . pull, Little Cap’n!” he 
managed to yell. 
(Continued on page 343) 
Page 314 
