Only a week
previous, a party of three had taken in a few hours all the fish they
could carry out of the woods, and had nearly surfeited their neighbors
with trout. But from some cause, they now refused to rise, or to touch
any kind of bait: so we fell to catching the sunfish, which were small
but very abundant. Their nests were all along the shore. A space about
the size of a breakfast-plate was cleared of sediment and decayed
vegetable matter, revealing the pebbly bottom, fresh and bright, with
one or two fish suspended over the centre of it, keeping watch and
ward. If an intruder approached, they would dart at him spitefully.
These fish have the air of bantam cocks, and, with their sharp,
prickly fins and spines and scaly sides, must be ugly customers in a
hand-to-hand encounter with other finny warriors. To a hungry man they
look about as unpromising as hemlock slivers, so thorny and thin are
they; yet there is sweet meat in them, as we found that day.
Much refreshed, I set out with the sun low in the west to explore the
outlet of the lake and try for trout there, while my companions made
further trials in the lake itself.
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