Page 16, Thursday, lN4ovember 4th, 1971, . t w as ear ly au t umn as my friend Bob and I drove north to a small lake I know for a final fling at fishing. Bl'm really looking forward to this, " Bob said enthusiastically, "in fact live b e en looking forward to t h is trip al1 week." "Wait 'till you see the whoppers that come ou t of this place," I said. it' s way back in the bush, just off an old lagging road and its hardly been fished at al." Three hours later we were nearing the turn-off. We were looking for a sign that saidMilligan. The lake was situated in the middle of Mil1igan's property and w as n amed af ter the owner's great- grandfather. "What's wrong?" Bob asked. "We've either missed the sign, or someone has pulled it down. Right now we're only ten miles from Bancroft." Il repl ied. "Just great, just great, " Bob mum- bled. "I might have kn6wn, "he half whis- p er ed, but just loud enough for me to hear. We turned b ack and an hour later, I stopped at a gas station and got dir- ections. "Just a fe w m i I es back this way, " I told Bob. "We've on I y w as ted an hour and a half good fishing time, " he grumbled. At last we made it. Coming to the end of the road, which runs right to the lake, we parked and walked over to a young man s i t t ing on the do c k , repairing a fishing reel. WHITBY FREE PRESS "We di dm't g e t any phone message about keeping a boat for you, " the boy said. "The only thing we have left is that punt with the little kicker on it.'" Bob let out a long groan. The punt wasleak ing at the s tern and I had to hoist my feet up on the seat be- side Bob, who was busy wringing out one of his wet socks. The motor went putt, thenputt. It was a one and a half horse power and the smallest outboard I had ever seen. "The joysof fishing, I beamed, try- ing to sound cheerful. I'Yeah, joy, 'I said Bob. On the down-run of the lake, Bob was atthemotorand I was trolling. It was a bright, sunny day and I marvelled at the beauty of the lake and the trees on the shore, just faintly tinted with autumnts colours. "lIvegotone, I'vegotone, " I yelled. "Y ou h ave like h---, your line is wound up in the fly wheel of the motor," Bob hollered back. He cut the engine and we drifted, as we viewed my line all snarled up on top of the motor. "You did it, you fix i t, "Bob or dered, as he moved to the front of the boat. Suddenly there was a thump, then an odd sounding kind of crunch. We looked down a s a stream of water poured into the boat. We had drif ted in close to shore and had blown up on a dead-head (A stump j u s t un d er the water). A knarled and pointed root had punctured a hole in the bottom of the boat. "We're sink ing , "Iyelled, "bail, bail. " "With what, my hat?" Bob growled. Finally the boat filled to the top. We c r a wied gingerly out into the ice-cold water that came up to our hips. I didn't h a v e the nerve to look at Bob, I knew he was glaring - very angry even. "'lil1 get a fire started, give me your matches, mine are soaked," I said. "I gave you mine an hour agotI Bob said, as he sat down on a large rock and buried his head in his hands. "Don'tcry", I soothed, "it gives'me an odd feeling in the stomach to see a grown man weep. " Bob peered at me through spread-out fingers. "If I ever had the urge to kill, this is the time, " he said. We h a d to leave t h e boat and walk back to the car ailong the shoreline, stumbling an d falling over logs, being to r n and scratched, crawling through underbrush. At last we were in the warmth of the c a r and heading for home. Not a word had been exchanged between us for over an hour. I stole a glance at Bob, huddl ed down in the corner of the front seat. "You want to know something buddy boy" he glowered at me. "What ? " " T h o s e f ish ha'ven't a thing in the w or I d to worry about when you're out there. Not a darn thing." 1 *E LOODDOO. w 77,