LETTER XIII. 147 



prairies from their summer pastures on the up- 

 lands, where now frost and snow were gradually 

 asserting themselves. On the Hope side there 

 were no cattle, nothing but forest and gray rock, 

 without browsing for a jackass, and oftentimes 

 the ever-climbing track wound over mere heaps 

 of sharp-edged stones, rendered more grizzly by 

 a crop of burnt pine-stumps. At noon I passed 

 through a lower and warmer belt, where a 

 heavy storm of warm rain made the trout rise 

 splendidly in a broad still bend of milky blue 

 water which came temptingly near my path. 



Unfortunately I had the relics of my rod tied 

 to my saddle, my reel and a couple of flies were 

 in my pocket. A strong-minded man would 

 have resisted the temptation and ridden on. To 

 resist temptation means sometimes to miss a 

 chance, and in this instance I felt sure that my 

 charmer who rose so softly under the willows 

 could not weigh less than three pounds. So I 

 dismounted, tied my broken rod together, and 

 soon had two or three good fish out on the bank. 

 But with a broken top I could not reach the big 

 one. There was, however, on the other side of 

 a tributary of the main stream a point from 

 which I could cover my fish. To reach it I 

 must wade through the smaller stream. This, 

 however, meant getting wet to the waist, so, rod 



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