A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER ^3 



At one o'clock we camped on the bank, amid clean 

 rocks and bushes, with an abundance of drinking-water 

 close by, and ate our luncheon. Some one suggested broil- 

 ing a couple of trout; and for appearance's sake I would 

 like to record the fact that we did so. It would have been 

 the regular thing to do; but I must tell the truth. The 

 fact is, we were all too much overcome with the languor 

 of lotus-eaters to do more than think about it. In other 

 words, we were too lazy to clean the fish, and broil them 

 properly. There was plenty of luncheon, the sunshine 

 was gloriously inviting, the river was like a dream, its roar 

 was soothing music, — and what more would you have! 



After a quiet hour, we sprang up, eager for the re- 

 mainder of our quota of fish. We tried the stream for 

 " big ones," but from the falls down to the first still 

 water we got not a single rise. The strife between us 

 was not merely to catch fish, and land them, but to catch 

 the biggest ones, only, and avoid hooking the small fry. 

 We became quite expert in snatching our flies away from 

 fish that were too small. 



Up to the fourteenth fish, Mr. Phillips was ahead of 

 me on size; but No. 15 came to my fly, and finally was 

 landed in triumph. It measured eighteen inches, beat- 

 ing John's largest by a whole eighth of an inch. Later 

 on, however, I remembered that he did the measuring, 

 and I will always have grave doubts about the actual exist- 

 ence of that eighth. I fear the steel tape slipped in my 

 favor. At all events, that fish weighed two pounds four 

 ounces; and we all joyously guessed far above its weight. 



It is needless to say that the flesh of the Cut-Throat 



