THE NAMELESS CREEK. 67 



neither trout nor venison, and I am hungry enough 

 to eat those two pounds of pork alone, if I once 

 isat fairly at it, and there goes the sun back of 

 1 he tree-tops now ? " " Well, unstrap your rod and 

 lect your flies," responded he, "and we will see 

 w hat we can find. I don't mean to have you wrap 

 } ourself around that piece of pork to-night any 

 \Miy." I did as requested. For the tail fly I 

 i.oosed on a brown hackle, above it I tied a killer, 

 ;iiid for the dapper I hitched on a white moth. 

 'l\iking the bow seat, John paddled straight for the 

 west shore of the lake, and the light boat, cutting 

 its way through the lily-pads, shot into a narrow 

 aperture overhung with bushes and tangled grass, 

 and I saw a sight I never shall forget. We had 

 entered the inlet of the lake, a stream some twenty 

 Icet in width, whose waters were dark and slujxgish. 

 The setting sun yet poured its radiance through the 

 ( »^'erhanging pines, flecking the tide with crimson 

 ])atches and crossing it here and there with golden 

 laues. Up this stream, flecked with gold and bor- 

 ilered with lilies as far as the eye could reach, the 

 air was literally full of jumping trout. From amid 

 lily-pads, from under the overhanging grass, and 

 ill the bright radiance poured along the middle of 

 tlie stream, the speckled beauties were launching 

 tliemselves. Here a little fellow would cut his 

 liny furrow along, the surface after a fluttering 

 L;uat; there a larger one, with quivering fin and 



