LET US GO AFIELD 



old John, chewing most vigorously, gave an excla- 

 mation and nodded toward the arch of his rod. He 

 had on two trout one very large, for he was using 

 a little fly above his baited hook. 



"That blame thing come right out from under 

 this rock," said he, "and chased my fish; and then 

 he grabbed that little fly and looky yonder ! There's 

 another one just as big. We've been settin' on them 

 all the while an' didn't know it !" 



Where those two great trout came from we never 

 really did know, but John landed his double. And 

 while he was doing so I cast a gentle fly over the 

 other big one ; he fastened, and was ours. 



How blissful the slow and gentle ride back to 

 camp after a day such as that, the old packhorse 

 squattering along, with plenty of trout in the pan- 

 niers! I presume trout do have something to do 

 with the bliss of one's soul at such a time, but none 

 the less I assert that I caught old John looking 

 at the sunset. 



"Ain't it a fine day?" we said one to the other 

 more than once, apropos of nothing in particular 

 save that it had indeed been a remarkably fine day. 

 I do not now remember how many trout we had, 

 but I do remember the toothed, white sky line of the 

 Sierra. And I know how green the pool was by 

 our camp, and how blue the smoke looked when we 



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