IN A FISHING COUNTRY 



'He's waiting there yet; and another like 

 him — seven — eight— nine pounds, under the 

 fall, at the end of the long trail across the 

 caribou-barrens.' 



'When the river's at the right pitch we'll 

 run down to the lower pools — over the 

 slow white clouds buried a mile under the 

 canoe.' 



'Can you hear the water part at her bows? 

 Doesn't she lift when you let your shoulders 

 into the paddle!' 



'I say, isn't it all clean and sweet and — 

 after this — this. . .' 



'Sorry to break in on your reminiscences, 

 Bartlet, but I told the C. O. that Mac- 

 Dougal would take you on in ten minutes. 

 Hope you'll both see your river again. 

 Good-bye, and don't forget you aren't 



there now. . .' 



* * * 



'Didn't know, Stenson, that MacDougal 

 and Bartlet were pals.' 



'Don't think they ever saw one another 

 before,^Bartlet's a Western man.' 



'What about this river of theirs? Seems 

 a first rate sort of place. Like to fish it 

 when I go out to Canada. Where is it? 



'God knows! — I guess it's . . . O well 

 . . . just — The River.' 

 148 



