by degrees, but, at the word “fish” I 
was awake all over in less time than it 
takes to tell it. In a few minutes the 
odor of the coffee pot mingled with that 
of the pine trees. 
B* the time it was light enough to 
begin casting, we had our plunge 
in the lake, fed our horse, washed up 
the dishes and were ready to start out 
for a day’s sport. Never have I be- 
held a more beautiful sight than Lake 
Butler that morning as the fog grad- 
ually disappeared revealing its wood- 
fringed shores. I have seen the sun 
rise at sea; I have seen it flashing on 
the mountains and glaciers of Alaska; 
I have seen its reflection on the Rhine 
as it flows slowly past Mayence; but 
never was there anything so appealing 
as that placid lake on that quiet early 
morning. 
The fish seemed as hungry in the 
early morning as they had been the 
night before and it was not long be- 
fore we were landing some fine fellows, 
weighing from three to seven pounds. 
It seemed as though the bait no sooner 
struck the water, especially in the 
neighborhood of a pond lily, than a fish 
would jump for it. 
“A rod and a hook and a bit of line, 
A pipe and a book, 
A tug and a jerk, then a mackerel fine, 
What joy and what sport is this game 
of mine.” 
The forenoon went by swiftly and 
when we returned to camp we had a 
goodly number of the finny tribe to pay 
for our morning’s work. 
yy oe lunch and a nap, we rowed 
over to an inlet beyond Macy’s 
camp, where Mr. Foster said he had 
seen speckled perch beds. We pulled 
into the shade of an overhanging tree, 
anchored our boat where the odor of 
bedding fish was strong and soon had 
our lines out. It took us a little while 
to locate the bed, but when we did, the 
sport was fast and furious. We hauled 
them in about as fast as we could take 
them off of our hooks. This must have 
lasted for about an hour, although it 
didn’t seem nearly as long. When the 
fish began to pay less attention to our 
blandishments we got tired of the game 
and rowed back to the old Macy camp 
where we went ashore and found some 
nice ripe guavas which we feasted on. 
Reluctantly we began to realize that 
our day’s sport was at an end, and in 
a little while with our camping outfit 
on wheels we were wending our way 
slowly toward the “City Beautiful.” 
We reached home about 10.30 p. m., 
covered with “dust and glory,” thor- 
oughly rested and happy. 
Page 45 
In writing to Advertisers mention Forest and Stream, 





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