Western Kansas world. [volume] (WaKeeney, Kan.) 1885-current, 1895-06-01
THE PHANTOM TROUT.
BY A. LIVINGSTONE.

'sThe 1st of April has for untold ages
been the Day of Fools! Why, no one in
particular seems to know. There are
patron saints for everyone from the
prelate to the thief, but who is the
saint of All-Fools?" Thus spoke Tom
Marks, one of a merry trio of trout
fishers who had journeyed up into
sullivan county, New York state, to
fish on the 1st of April, only to find
that the waters of their chosen dis
trict could not lawfully be fished until
the 18th of the month, and that they
znust journey many a weary mile
across country before they reached a
district where the open season began
on All-Fool's day. The change of loca-
tion was not accomplished until late
3n the evening and, although hopes
were bright for the next days sport,
there was considerable grumbling at
lost time.
The party had gathered around the
fire enjoying that peace which a pipe
brings after a good supper, when
Toms question was asked. In the
corner of the fireplace was the oldest
member of the party tying flies. He
looked up: ''Well, you boys knew all
y
were on the cars, but as soon as you
said 'Sunnyside' 1 said to myself:
"Hoodoo, and, mind you, / had my rea
sons"
what were they?'' chorused the
other two.
ga story now is as good as at any
other time, and as we are properly
April fools this time (Heaven forbid
that the boys ever hear of itD, I'll tell
you story of twenty years ago, when
/ was fishing in this very county. I
hired a man to show me the good
spots, and he was worth his hire, for
there was less open water than there
is now, and did not care for bait fish
jng. The next morning saw US off for
the stream, and very good sport we
had.
MY guide proved to be quaint,
-garrulous fellow, who had lived up in
those tangles for about sixty years,
and remembered plenty of strange hap
penings and changes. | drew many
yarn out of him at lunch and at nights.
One day was casting down by curl
Gus old piece of ruined brickwork that
looked as if it might have been built by
Chris. Column and had been there
ever since. Pat, the man, had
gone into the woods to try and locate
a patch of water he had lost track of,
=and was to keep up stream until he
overlook me. When he came along
and found me seated on that brick
wall he nearly dropped, and begged
me to come away, adding that he had
no idea | would get up so far or he
would have been back sooner. Then he
~cussed at great rate.
eve turned off to lunch, and this
was the yarn he told me. The wall
was part of a very old brick house,
built during the British occu-
-pancy>by an English gentleman. Pats
father, then not long over from Erin,
had acted as river warden, keeper,
fisherman, etc, to the Englishman,
who was always fishing, never weary
ing of it as long as the fish We're in sea-
sson. What made both of them mad
was that they always had to go some
distance from the house to catch fish,
for never one was there in the pool op-
~posite the lower garden wall. They
put down two net dams, and put fish
in between the two dams; but it was
no use, not fish could they catch.
One day the Englishman got mad, and
swore by the equivalent to the Great
Horn Spoon that he would get fish
~out of there if he fshed until his arms
fell off, and to that end he gave him
sself strength by loading up fairly well
with whisky.
t'It was up the stream and down the
astream, the owner and his man, first
one and then the other, and as one bot
tile was emptied the servant fetched an