conditions were exactly right for such 

 an expedition. I passed many spots 

 that would have delighted the soul of 

 an artist. He, probably, would have 

 taken a week to cover the distance I 

 expected to travel in three hours. 



I had gone more than half way to the 

 dam, had a few fish in my creel, and was 

 approaching an elbow in the stream. 

 A high point of land covered with bushes 

 shut off my view of a deep pool just 

 around the corner, in which I had many 

 times caught trout. As I came near 

 this bend in the river a most extra- 

 ordinary thing occured. I distinctly saw 

 a fish flying through the air over the 

 top of the clump of bushes on the point. 

 A flying fish is not an unheard-of thing, 

 indeed I have seen them several times, 

 but not in the mountains, not in these 

 woods, where there are fresh waters only. 

 Flying fish of the kind I know about are 

 met in the Sound and in bays near the 



