84 TRAVELS IN THE EIGHTIES. 



The char invariably sucked in the fly when it was 

 deep down in the water, and then the only indication 

 of their presence was a stubborn resistance, as though 

 the fly had caught on a rock. Then there came a 

 brilliant flash of orange crimson as the frightened 

 fish turned over on its back in its struggles to escape. 



Another night was passed in the insufferable log 

 hut, and next day the rain still fell in torrents. The 

 wind however had ceased, so the voyage was continued. 

 Half-way up the lake lie scattered a multitude of 

 islands, leaving in one place a narrow channel, or 

 waist, through which the water swiftly glides. 



Here were to be seen hundreds of char, the hand- 

 somest, perhaps, and the best eating of all freshwater 

 fishes ; they were feeding in the comparatively 

 shallow water, darting hither and thither, in entire 

 fearlessness and disregard of the boat, forming a gor- 

 geous maze of flashing colour with their dark backs 

 and bright crimson bellies a sight worth coming 

 many a thousand miles to see. Some seemed likely to 

 weigh as much as two pounds. Of course I threw a 

 fly towards them a March brown with a short line on 

 account of the overhanging trees. At first no notice 

 whatever was taken of it, but soon I had the satis- 

 faction of seeing a char swim up and inspect the 

 artificial thing, and appearing satisfied that it seemed 

 nutritious and good to eat, he opened wide his mouth 

 and gulped it down. 



A tightening of the line surprised him greatly, and 

 after a short struggle I was able to lift him into the 



