the arm weary, and destroys all enthusiasm.
But let the strikes begin and weariness disappears. Some days the fish
will bite for an hour, say from eleven to twelve, and then quit and
not give another strike all day. The very next day, in the same spot,
one cannot get a bite until afternoon.

One of my fishermen friends once related the following: "Again and
again I have heard old and experienced fishermen say that no fish can
be caught in a thunder-storm. Yet in July 1913 four boats were towed
by a launch out to the Nevada side, near to Glenbrook. It appeared
stormy before the party left, but they refused to be daunted or
discouraged by the doleful prognostications of the "know-it-alls."
Before long the lightning began, the clouds hung heavy, and while they
fished they were treated to alternate doses of thunder, lightning,
cloud, sunshine, rain and hail. In less than an hour every member of
the party--and there were several ladies--were soaked and drenched to
the skin, but all were happy. For, contrary to the assertions of the
experts, every angler was having glorious success. Each boat secured
its full quota, 40 fish to each, and the catch averaged 70 pounds to
a boat, scarcely a fish being pulled out that did not weigh over a
pound. Talk about luck; these people surely had it."

Once again; I was out one day with Boat No. 14 (each boat has its own
number), and the boatman told me the following story. I know him
well and his truthfulness is beyond question. He had with him two
well-known San Francisco gentlemen, whom I will name respectively,
Rosenbaum and Rosenblatt. They were out for the day. For hours they
"jerked" without success. At last one turned to the other and said:
"Rosie, I've got a hunch that our luck's going to change. I'm going to
count twenty and before I'm through we'll each have a fish." Slowly he
began to count, one,--two,--three. Just as he counted fourteen, both
men felt a strike, gave the fateful jerk, and pulled in a large fish,
and from that moment their luck changed.

This is not the whole of the story, however. Some days later the same
boatman was out on the Nevada side with two gentlemen, who could
not get a bite. Merely to while away the time the boatman told the
foregoing facts. To his surprise and somewhat to his disgust at his
own indiscretion in telling the story, one of the gentlemen began
to count, and, believe it or not, he assures me that at the fateful
fourteen, he gained a firs