TROUT FISHING. 125 



one who used a fly, I took all the trout. They were, 

 however, of a small size and difficult to hook, for I 

 had nothing but a common pole cut from the forest, 

 on which to rig my line. I had left my light and 

 delicate rod in the settlements, as I should advise 

 every one to do, who endeavors to penetrate this path- 

 less region. When one is compelled to carry his own 

 rifle, overcoat, and underclothing, and sometimes his 

 cooking utensils, and that, too, with a walk of 

 twenty miles on a stretch before him, he would do 

 well not to lumber himself up with fishing rods. 



But when the sun at .length totally disappeared be- 

 hind the mountains, and the surface of Cold River, 

 overshadowed by an impenetrable forest, became black 

 as ink, the trout left their retreats ; and in a short 

 time the water was in a foam with their constant 

 leaping. Where but a short time before we had 

 passed, looking down through the clear depths 

 without seeing a single finny rover, now there 

 seemed an innumerable multitude. Here a sudden 

 bold bound — there a long shoot as a fierce fellow 

 swept along after a large fly, kept the bosom of the 

 stream in a bubble. The Indian and my companions 

 had stiff poles, cord lines, and large hooks, with a 



