Then there is the old-fashioned large single hook, thrust through the mouth, down the fleshy part of the back and out at the side, or out at the gills and back through the mouth into the side. The objection is that bait is apt to work down on the bend of the hook, or the trout is apt to take off the tail of the bait without being hooked.
The other, and I think the best plan of baiting with dead bait, is the same as the last, with the addition of a small hook to thrust through the nose, that tends to retain the fish in its place, and allow the hook to be carried down further toward the tail, and still make the bait spin well. Minnow is never properly baited, unless it spins freely with every motion of the rod, and it must ever be kept moving. Of course the line must be armed with the swivel-trace, and in baiting with dead minnow a Limerick hook should be used, when using worms or grasshoppers a hook of finer wire is better.
The dead minnow is preferable for rapid water. In ponds the minnow should be alive, in which case the hook is to be inserted in front of the dorsal fin, and the point may be left under the skin, or exposed, as the poacher pleases; I prefer it covered. It should not penetrate the flesh.
In the Marshpee I was using a single hook, keeping the bait well ahead of me, and creeping cautiously in the freezing water, watching the tiny float as it danced its merry course along, now borne swiftly over the rippling current, anon caught in an eddy and returning on its track, and then again resting motionless in some dark and quiet pool. It was scarcely visible beneath the dense shadows, and once in a while it would disappear from my straining sight; then followed a sharp blow with my rod, a fierce tug, a short fight between fear, despair and cunning on the one side, and strength, energy and judgment on the other. The prey once hooked, and skill there was not; it was a mere contention of two brute forces, in which the weaker went to the basket. An exhibition of skill or tenderness would have resulted in an entanglement round the nearest root, and the loss of fish, leader and hook. Still, there was excitement; the situation was romantic, the narrow gorge, the deep and rapid stream, the closely matted trees and vines, the ever-changing surface of the current, which adds beauty to the tamest brook, all combined to lend enchantment to the scene. The fish were large and vigorous, fresh run from the sea, where they had, the Winter long, been a terror to the small fry, and early death to juicy and unsuspicious shell-fish. They fought fiercely for life and liberty, their homes and their household gods, and, alas! too often successfully. The risk of their escape added to the interest of the occasion, and the number of herring darting past gave continual promise of the presence of their arch enemy, the trout.