178 FISHING WITH THE FLY. 



I recollect also the particulars of the last double catch 

 I made on the stream. The pair were of nearly the 

 same size and were struck well down the stream. The 

 dropper or hand-fly was taken last, and it was some 

 minutes before my light rod could hold him up to the 

 surface long enough to take the fight out of him. The 

 trout on the tail-fly was still as active as ever. The 

 reel line was all in, and I could not pull the two up near 

 enough for my guide to net the rear fish first. I would 

 not consent to a possible loss of either of them. I 

 directed him to net the upper fish quickly and cut the 

 snell with my knife. This he did, and the fish that had 

 temporary possession of the tail-fly darted off and had 

 his own fun before he would consent to be led into the 

 landing-net. The two weighed five and a half pounds. 



Our day at the Virgin Falls, July 19th, was the suc- 

 cessful termination of our northward journey. We pad- 

 dled up the stream with both birch-bark canoes and 

 reached the falls at about 10 A.M. We carried our canoe 

 around a sharp rapid at Miner's Camp and came in sight 

 of the falls as we cleared the pine forest which covered 

 our path. The falls, thirty feet high, were right in front 

 of us, half a mile away, and a great eddy, white with 

 foam, filled the space between us and the foot of the fall 

 where the river turns at a right angle. Gulls, eagles, 

 and fish-hawks were soaring over the white water of 

 the rapids and diving occasionally for their prey. We 

 soon landed at the rocky point below the falls. The 

 trout could be seen throwing themselves clear from the 



