Rock Island daily Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1886-1893, 1893-01-03
CATCHING BIG FISH.
LANDING A HUGE MUSKELLUNGE
MUST BE RARE SPORT INDEED.


There are four of us in this pilgrimage
into the wilderness-Mr. F. n Lewis. a
hain street merchant of Louisville, and
his son, a student of fair Harvard; Colonel
Weir, of Owensboro, a typical Kentuckian.
and the Georgia pilgrim. With wonder
full preparations for fish slaughter we have
penetrated to the farthest extreme, head
4uarterlng at the Elliot This is no Airing
ton. The glimmer of a few white tents
bespeaks the presence of party of camp
ers, and this Is as near the chair warming
feature as woods hostelry can boast of.
The breath of the balsam woods fans the
tahhed cheek, the same air that Bayard
Taylor has described "as grateful to the
lungs as FaltSian to the palate" The
clear, cold waters rush and swirl in tor
tuous channels ranging from bowlder lined
shore swallows to fifteen fathons. Merrily
they dash their green waves, striped with
golden sun rays, upward to catch the blue
OF the cloudless ether. This is the home
and haunt of the bass and pickerel and
trout and the majestic and gamy muskel-
lunge.
hcGulpin is the guide. Brown of face
and with CHEEKY smile he looks like a
battercake with a dab of honey on it.
From ElliOt's be leads us through the
spruce forest half mile over a velvetv
turf formed of the fallen spruce leaves, as
soft as Persian carpet, and we come out
on the most lonesome eXpanse of water I
ever saw. 1t is between great islands, but
the entrances on either side are narrow
and winding.
The trolls are out. The silent oarsman
bends to his work. The quiet is depress-
ing. Not a sound disturbs the eternal 81
fence. Even the oars dip without more
than ripple. Only two lines follow in
the wake Of the boat. The colonel and the
student have gone away to themselves, too
far off to note their luck. The moments
lenGthen out-&Gd then the line lengtnens
too. What is this' Have | caught a hid
den rock? Queer rock to lash tail like
that! In it comes, Juggling and raging,
and with open mouth threatening a mod
ern edition of Jonah to lie painting and
wrestling in the boat-a 10-pound pickerel
With line pulling out almost as fast as
one is pulling in and the waters white with
contagious rage of ffnny gladiator, there
could be no recollection of the depressing
heartburn and provoking cough OF indi-
gestion. To be fishing where there never
are mosquitoes or malaria or even black
flies and other insects contributes to the
sources of universal charity and generos-
ity. Even the hay fever patient snuffs only
the battle with the trout
But to catch muskellunce-a palpitat-
ing, throbbing, gamy aggregation of five
and-twenty pounds of aqueous life-you
Brier creek men must wait for that before
you come to tell what iuck Won have had.
Oh, you swamp fishermen. gently throw
out your line, and watch that no leaf or
lilypad or stalk of bulrush entangles its
intrusive green nnOO Won oil croo,,
Did you feel gentle tug? Draw up-you.
have caught weed Take it off and care
fully let your 100 feet of line out again
Permit the line to lie along the fore
finger, pressing the tips Lounge not, sit
steadily, drawn up like a tiger ready to
spring, alert and 1.-the in an instant. That
gittering, revolving spoon, spinning on it's
swivel, will be seen presently. Look out. is
your arm out of joint? Gather yourself.
Never mind McGulpin's chuckle. for he
will look out for oars: YOU look out for
yourself. You have hitched a lightning
express train, and it is billed through.
Haul in, keep taut; oh, for your life don't
slack the line. Blood on your finger? All
right, that will cool your fever a little: it
is only the line that has cut through into
the flesh
Come in steady, jerk not, still come in.
breath. Never mind McGulpin, he is pull
ing toward shore. There he goes. that
hillock of foam means one fearful strike
for life. 1t must be tiger against tiger
now. Let him tangle your line and he is
safe All, that rush means business never
mind the boat, 60 overheard, but hold that
line tight. Pull, pull, pull-oh, pull, for
yard Of slack will raise the laugh on you.
Good, McGulpin, the bow is among the
bulrushes and the shore is near The lash
ing monster feels the tickling of the bull
PUSHES, and he knows that means speedy
death. Now for one last, mad, despairinc
effort
Straight up into the air he shoots him
self his 1.-the sides sparkling with drops
that glisten like diamonds, volcano of hot
rage. Let him have his way let out the
line just so much. How much? Enough to
keep him from swapping it in twain, and
not enough for him to loosen that hook;
this is his one grand chance for life. He
filings himself like a circus acrobat, nose
pointed away from boat and shore. Now.
if you know anything, let him CO. but only
until with gentle pressure you can turn
him as tug will tow great ship around
Is be off? No. That white turbulent circle
means that he is still hooked and YOUR skill
is bringing him toward you again. VIII
he try another leap?
He would if he knew how out of breath
you are, standing there quivering like a
frightened girl, painting and with eye
af1ame with delirious intoxication. Draw
In steady, the boat is in the shadows.
What's that brushing your legs? Never
mind; it is McGulpin crawling aft with his
gait hook. Are you going to lose your
quarry? You see him plainly now, six feet
away. Will he shoot that monstrous
power against the boat and tear himself
away to freedom. You may have the mus
kellunge ague and lose everything If you
are not cool and steady. ..
Lean out throw that right arm as far as
possible from the boat. Suppose you do
fall out. Stand up to your armpits, but
don't lose your taut hold. There he is, his
tiger eyes. bloodshot and defiant, glaring
at you. Now for McGulpin-you have
done all that man can do. Steadily the
Quide reaches ont the paff-a plupoe a