Sporting Innocents Abroad 



Rolling out, you shiver in the early dawn. A hasty 

 wash in the stream, followed by a cup of black tea, gets 

 your drowsy wits working, and you begin to take an 

 interest in the day's happenings. After a good breakfast 

 of ham and eggs, marmalade and cold biscuit, you take 

 your place stiffly in the bow of the canoe, and the guide 

 pushes off. You are not over-enthusiastic. You find 

 your casting arm is sore, and you handle the rod 

 awkwardly. Perhaps you snag the line, or maybe lodge 

 it in the branches of an overhanging tree, although 

 your companion warned you about the back cast. You 

 handle the fish roughly and lose a good many. Lame, 

 tired, and out of sorts, all nature seems to conspire 

 against you. Being particularly careless in one back 

 cast, you hook the guide in his cap, or mayhap in his 

 ear. Although unaware of it, you are learning what to 

 do and what not to do. The guide finally suggests 

 quietly that you stop fishing and have a smoke while he 

 poles you up over a nice little run. This interests you 

 and gets your mind off yourself and your troubles. 

 Perhaps he entertains you by antithetical tales of the 

 river or woods, or sings chanteys. You've been acting 

 like a tired, spoiled child, and without your realizing it, 

 he is trying to divert you, and usually succeeds. When 

 he thinks you have recovered your equilibrium, he 

 suggests that you cast in " that there eddy behind that 

 big rock." 



As the fly strikes the water there is a splash, a sharp 

 tug, and you have hooked a big one. The fight is on. 

 After five minutes of most exciting sport and skilful 

 handling upon your part, the guide deftly slips the dip- 

 net under a three-pounder. You feel a man again. 



As the sun gets hot and the blackflies begin to annoy, 

 you float downstream to the tent. You are suffering 

 from sunburn. The guide suggests cold cream or white 



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