THE AMERICAN GRAYLING. 365 



below was effectually blocked by a jam of telegraph poles, 

 which were piled to a height of many feet, in the bed of the 

 rushing stream. 



Here was our first "carry," and it took us nearly two hours 

 to make it; but at last the work was accomplished, and, well 

 wearied, we made an early camp and fished the rapids, but 

 with small success. This, however, did not distress us, as 

 we had enough; and we devoted ourselves to salting the fish 

 that we had saved. There were about sixty, all of large size. 

 Had we retained all we caught, we should have more than 

 trebled this number. 



Our rest that night was peaceful, and before sunrise we 

 were on our way. We judged that we were within five 

 miles of the bridge where we expected to find our team, and 

 we hoped to be able to take home a few freshly caught 

 Grayling. 



In this we were not disappointed. It seemed rather late 

 in the season for gnats, but John attached a red and a brown 

 for his first cast, and did not again change the flies, which 

 were well suited to his light rod. 



Mine was heavier, and I did not try the gnats, but held to 

 the hackles, brown, red and black; steering and casting alter- 

 nately with my companion, and each meeting with good 

 success. 



Too soon the bridge and the driver hove in sight; we each 

 made one more cast "for luck" and reeled in. The driver 

 waved his hat and cheered, as the last resplendent fish was 

 drawn from the water and held up to view; and we pushed 

 ashore, with forty fine fellows for our morning's catch. 



In ten more minutes we had left behind the river, all save 

 its delightful memories, and were swiftly rattling over the 

 road in the direction of civilization. 



