AMONG THE MOUNTAINS W 



grass and all made snug about camp, we de- 

 termined upon trout for supper, if trout were 

 to be had, and John had given me his assurance 

 that the river was "plumb full of them." His 

 enthusiasm, indeed, had prepared me for some 

 of the most wonderful trout fishing of my ex- 

 perience. 



John had never used artificial flies and he 

 examined mine with critical interest and undis- 

 guised skepticism as to their probable adequacy 

 in luring trout. Finally he found one that 

 "looked as though it might fool the fish," and 

 accepted it. His faith, however, was pinned to 

 grasshoppers, and to insure success, in case the 

 fly failed him, he selected some snelled hooks. 

 Then cutting himself a "pole," he turned down- 

 stream, while I, with my steel fly rod, ascended 

 the river. 



From the first pool in which I cast I landed 

 three, with a brown hackle; from the next pool 

 three more. That was all. Pool after pool I 

 whipped and tried nearly every fly in my col- 

 lection, but not another rise could I get. I re- 

 membered John's suggestion as to grasshoppers, 

 but determined to take no fish I could not lure 

 with an artificial fly, for I was angling for sport 

 rather than numbers. 



The sun had dropped behind the hills, and 



