/3- 



52 THREE FISH 



one way and another, and always the Diggers got 

 me fish. The boys caught them. I did not 

 trouble about them, for I had no rod, and have never 

 cared much for bottom-fishing. And this was really 

 bottom-fishing ; for the boys would hunt for a certain 

 white grub that lived in the roots of the reeds, and 

 this they used as bait. 



Now a bear, going nightly to some place of his 

 affection, crossed the stream near the bottom of the 

 valley at about the same point each time. So I 

 had good hopes of intercepting him with a bullet, 

 and went out one night with that intent. The 

 August moon was full. And before I had gone 

 very far I saw in an opening between the trees a 

 bit of a tree-trunk, upon which I thought to sit 

 and smoke my pipe and listen to the owls. But 

 as I prepared to do this the trunk gave a grunt, and 

 was not a trunk any more, but an old Digger Indian 

 wrapped in his blanket and lying out full-length 

 upon his back. I apologised and passed on. 



I have mentioned this occurrence for nothing else 

 in the world but to explain my introduction to the 

 old Digger, whom I saw again next day. He had 

 seen something of civiUsation in the Yo Semite 

 Valley, so we patched up a conversation fairly well. 





