Disgusted Fishermen

One day a Boston party, on a fishing trip to Moosehead, carne across one of the old school fishernien. He was up off the mouth of Tornhegan stream and was fishing out of a luinberman's batteau. It developed later that he was the cook for a crew of river drivers. On the bank near at hand stood the cookee, or his helper. The cook had thrown about a peck of table refnse into the lake in order to "tole" the fish, and over that lnre he was having great luck. His pole was of the jib boom variety, and when a fish bit he would derrick it over his head into the bushes where the cookee was stationed. The Boston men from their canoes watched operations with all the disgust Gf the true sportsmen. "Got enough for supper yet?" shouted the fisherman over his shoulder as he set another great trout flamping into the bushes. "No; better catch six or eight more, " shrilled back the cookee. "Say, how many fish do you two fellows nsually eat for supper?" shouted a Boston man who didn't understand the situation. "When you've cooked for 22 river drivers as lona: as I have, " yelled the cook, derricking another fish, "you'll know more about empty nail kegs. " Hardly was this enigmatic utterance out when there carne a tug at his line that was nothing short of tremendous. He twitched. The fish didn't come. He braced, set his jaws and pried. His line only sawed the hissing water. "Play him! Play him!" screamed the excited sportsmen from the city. "Play your grandmotherl" bellowed the cook. "I ain't here to play. I'm here to fish. " And as he spoke he boosted over his head a 15 pound laker. Any man in the Boston crowd would have given $10 to have played him an hour at the end of an eight ounce rod. 'Twas too much for their nerves. They came