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TJii Aiiiiricnii A}iQ-/fr. 



their souls, who arc trying- to get that 

 "reserve " set aside. We will prepare 

 our banquet of fried trout and " dough- 

 gods " on the bench of level rock down 

 by the water's edge, where there is also 

 a good opportunity to "salt" the fish 

 in the gravel, and we will find a good 

 place to spread our blankets on the soft 

 moss on the " bench " a little further 

 back. If we want to try the small 

 brook trout we will be able to fill oiir 

 baskets here in a short time, and all 

 along the Brightenbush from here up 

 for several miles is the ideal home of 

 the big " Rainbow." 



A mile above here I had the greatest 

 battle of the season last year. You 

 would be well repaid for your trouble in 

 visiting this spot if you never killed a 

 fish. It is in a rocky gorge, whose pre- 

 cipitous sides rise hundreds of feet 

 above the broad bench of rocks on which 

 I stood during the fray. The river 

 comes tumbling down a sharp declivity 

 and plimges over several huge boulders 

 just above, whirls through a narrow 

 passage that you might jump if you 

 dared, and then flows quietly past for a 

 distance of a hundred yards. 



The water is at least fifteen feet deep, 

 but I could see my fish lying near the 

 bottom on the opposite side of the river 

 as plainly as though they were in the 

 frying-pan. There was no chance to 

 conceal myself, and I knew the trout 

 had his eye on me long before I discov- 

 ered him; but he was a "dai.sy," and 

 he seemed to challenge an attack. So 

 I determined to try him. I selected 

 my most attractive fly and prepared for 

 the fray. My only hope was that I was 

 so far away that he would not connect 

 me with the fly when it arrived on his 

 side of the river. My first cast was a 

 complete success as a cast. The fly set- 

 tled down upon the water as naturallv 



as life, just over his nose. I thought he 

 winked his oflf-eye. I repeated the 

 maneuver. He winked the other eye, I 

 suppose, but otherwise he did not move 

 a fin. I exhausted all my resources, 

 tried all my flies, wore out my patience, 

 and was about to leave in disgust when, 

 there was a sudden flash of his rainbow 

 sides, a commotion of the surface, and 

 my line went humming over the reel 

 with a suddenness that took my breath 

 away. Backward and forward he 

 da.shed, taking my line out of the water 

 with a swish that showed him to be a 

 "whale." It was a clear field, and he 

 was evidently well hooked, and I had 

 reeled him in with the intention of mak- 

 ing a short ending to a long skirmish, 

 when an unexpected thing happened. 

 I had on a long leader with two flies 

 attached. Just as I was thinking I 

 might venture to land my fish, out from 

 behind a rock darted another, larger 

 than the first, who gobbled up the other 

 fly before I knew what had happened. 

 Here, indeed, was a " citivation " for a 

 cove as had just got a "citivation," so 

 to speak. I began to think of the story 

 I should have to tell of ' ' the fish that 

 got away." I still retained suflicient 

 presence of mind to keep my line taut, 

 but I could do little else, and all thought 

 of landing the game vanished. I could 

 not even keep them headed up stream, 

 and, when the last comer took a notion 

 to sulk at the bottom, I could no more 

 have raised him with my light trout rod 

 than I could have raised an ox. I was 

 not much more than an interested spec- 

 tator for the next half hour. And I was 

 not the only spectator, for no sooner 

 had the second fish attached himself to 

 my string than there were a dozen 

 others fairly tumbling over themselves 

 to get hold of something themselves. 

 Fortunatelv there were no more hooks 



