Three Days at Silver Lake, Washington 
On our way back we again lilted the 
fly and soon had goodsport. We found 
these trout, although not reaching half 
a pound in weight, to be exceedingly 
game, taking the fly like a flash, and 
requiring quick work to hook and land 
them. We found a landing-net a great 
convenience in lifting them into the 
boat and avoiding any strain on our 
rod tips. They readily took the old 
standard flies, royal coachman and 
brown hackle, and noticing a small 
black fly common on the water, we tried 
the black hackle with peacock body with 
good success. We took about forty fish 
on our way back tocamp, and found the 
other member of our party had been 
equally successful. 
After dinner we fished in the rain, 
which seemed to increase the sport, and 
the harder the down-pour, the more 
plentiful the rises. In the intervals of 
the showers we sat in our boat watching 
‘*Old Aquarius” and his children play- 
ing hide-and-seek among the hills, while 
the unruffled surface of the lake lay like 
a mirror below. We were joined in the 
evening by a neighboring rancher who 
had come up to enjoy the good sport 
He informed us that the international 
boundary line lay just a quarter of a 
mile from the north shore of the lake. 
He also said that there was good shoot- 
ing in the vicinity, bear and deer 
abounding with smaller game. He 
‘spent the night with us and returned in 
the morning with a good load of fish. 
Friday morning dawned cloudy and 
rainy as usual, and we again prepared 
for fishing by donning our water-proofs, 
and in our boats paddled to the upper 
end of the lake, only a quarter of a mile 
away. Here we enjoyed the best sport 
yet had, and ‘‘double headers” were 
common, sometimes nettiny a second 
fish when boating the first to rise. All 
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of the fish ran about the same size as 
previously noted—from eight to ten 
inches in length; but toward the close 
of the morning’s sport, the writer, 
while casting, had the fortune to hooka 
' trout that ‘‘pulledlike a team of horses,”’ 
causing the reel to hum like unto a 
rattlesnake’s rattle. The line was taut 
and everything appeared to be working 
well, when, after coming to the surface 
long enough to afford a tantalizing view 
of a trout of about double the usual 
size, he gave a desperate lunge and 
succeeded in tearing the hook loose and 
escaping. 
We pulledinto camp, having in our 
boat taken with our two rods seventy- 
five fish that morning, and finding on 
our return that our other member had 
been equally successful. Over our 
dinner we seriously considered the 
problem which presented itself; how to 
get our catch home. We set about pre- 
paring the fish, removing the entrails 
through the smallest possible opening 
and filling the cavity with freshly pulled 
swale-grass, a method which preserved 
the fish very nicely. 
We found that we could only carry 
home about half the number on hand, 
and what todo with the rest of the day 
was the question. Of course we wanted 
no more fish to throw away, but the 
ardor for the sport was still unquenched 
in some of the party, and pushing out 
again, a few were taken in a per- 
functory sort of way and released as 
soon as taken and with but little injury 
to the fish. But this kind of sport soon 
grew tame, and although the fish were 
rising as freely as ever, we gave over 
the sport for good and returned to our 
cabin to wait until next day for our 
return home. 
Next morning, for a wonder, it was 
not raining and we rose bright and 
