A GOLDEN DAY ON FORDING RIVER 29 



crowded together at the farther side, and went rushing 

 against the rock wall at the rate of ten miles an hour. 



I threw my fly upon the racing water, and let it ride 

 downstream, bobbing up and down on the waves. The 

 first cast went for nothing, but in the next, the fly had 

 not ridden more than half-way down when there was a 

 golden-yellow flash across the current, a rush, and a 

 greedy pull on the line. 



"There! You've got one already!" cried Charlie. 

 " Be careful, and don't let your line slacken! " 



The first trout! It was a thrilling moment. My 

 blood seemed to be suddenly set back about twenty years. 

 With every new tug on the end of the rod my fingers 

 tingled as if I held the poles of an electric battery. It 

 was a new thing to hook a big fish and see it, every 

 instant. 



I was too anxious to land my first fish for any in- 

 dulgence in exhibition play. The trout rushed in many 

 directions, mostly upstream on the bias, or across, for I 

 gave him no chance to run down. As he turned half 

 over in rushing away from my side of the stream, the sun 

 caught his golden side and lit it up gloriously. How 

 fine he did look! 



With as little delay as possible I reeled him in and 

 swung him shoreward until Charlie was able to reach 

 out, and land him fairly upon the clean cobble-stones. He 

 was a Cut-Throat Trout (Salmo clarkii) better named 

 Black-Spotted Trout, but by people of this region known 

 as " Dolly- Varden " Trout. The upper half of the body 

 is of a pale golden-yellow color, dotted all over from 



