The Tacoma times. [volume] (Tacoma, Wash.) 1903-1949, 1910-04-26
Is TROUT, WITH A PIECE OF STRING,
HOOKED FROM THE BROOK BY BIG jim
Especial Correspondence.) ,

CAMP ROWARDEENAN, Ben
Loman, CAL. April 26.-Awful,
isn't It? That headline isn't
poetry, not even near poetry. 1t
attempts to describe the pisca-
torial ability of one Jimma da
Jeff, lately of Los Angeles, now of
Ben Lomond, Cal. Jeff is pre-
pairing to smite one John Arthur
johnson, of Galveston, and dur
ing the interval between train
ing spells he makes life miserable
for the brook trout that inhabit
the streams near his training
quarters.
For Jeff is the original dyed in
the wool piscatorial kid. He
makes old Isaac Walton look like
a selling platter in stake race
when it comes to hooking fish.
But take stroll with James along
the banks of the San Lorenzo river
or Love creek or Spooner's
stream or Lovesick rivulet or any
other little old brook in that Sec
ton.
1t Is $3.50 a. m. and you are
Just preparing to turn over and
have a beauty Sleep" when you
hear a commotion in the yard.
You hop from bed, make a flying
leap for your trousers; splash
some water over your phyz and
beat it. Half way down the road
you describe a figure. closely re-
sembling an escaped elephant. It's
Jeff? Sure. Couldn't be any
body else with that figure. You
race up to him, painting audibly.
Going fishing?, Jeff you
ask.
HUH" is the answer. Then
you think how foolish you have
been asking a man carrying a
trout pole and can of worms at
IS a. m, IL he is going fishing.
He couldn't be keeping a dinner
engagement or frying hot cakes.
Walking with Jeff is one Hi
Green, the champion fisherman of
the countyr. You have a $40 out
fit. IS worth of flies, a nice pair
of boots and basket Jeff and
Hi each carry a bamboo stick. You
look at your outfit and smile in a
superior way.
All, ha, you have "arroved. The
ripping brook, the singing birds,
the waving grass, the croaking
frogs (do frogs croak in the MORN
ing?) and the rest of the setting
is there waiting for you. JEFF re-
poses on a rock and patiently
ties string to that bamboo stick.
To this he affixes a hook. Hi
Green does the same.
Ready" says Hi.
Huh" runts Jeff.
And then the fish get busy. Dip
ping a hook, upon which wiggles
a squirming worm, into a placid
looking pool. Jeff yanks out a
nice struggling trout. Hi follows
a minute later with another. They
keep this up for an hour, and then
wren tue tiCu Ou u X,
make for the hotel, and break
fast. But how have you been do
ing all this time? Fine, for the
sporting goods man. Your flies
have hooked in projecting limbs,
snagged you in the seat of the
trousers. punctured your legs and
done everything else except get in
the water. Then when they dc
get there the fish refuse to bite.
You think there are none there.
Then you look at Jeff and sigh.
They are there, right enough, but
that $50 outfit can't beat that old
bamboo stick. Back at the hotel
there's a bunch of sports waiting
to see the result.
How many did you get Jeff"
sings out one.
Huh" grunts Jeff for the third
time.
Say" he responds a minute lat
err" Hi here reminded me of some
thing about fishing / haven't tried
since was a kid. and 1t gets the
trout"
What was 1t, Jim ?" the. chorus
shrieks at him.
] Jim just smiles and tells them
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