GUESTS OF THE FORESTS 43 



"Gosh," she muttered, working hard to bring the fish in closer. 



It was abreast of her now. She only could see it when it broke the water, 

 leaping and bucking. The line pulled too taut. She let it out a bit, and the 

 fish ran hard for the far shore. Suddenly the line went limp. All fishermen 

 know that feeling, but she kept hoping as she wound in. Only the frayed 

 leader swung out of the water, and somewhere among the dark rocks a 

 rainbow nursed the fly. 



She caught three more and then her luck ran out. The light was going 

 over the mountains. You could hardly see the edges of the streams. Every- 

 thing had grown fuzzy in the half light. She wound in the reel and snapped 

 the lock. Then she picked her way across the stream. Down by the Walters' 

 site she could see the council fire going and the children dancing around it 

 and singing. Some of their friends had come out from Bozeman for the 

 evening. She went over and joined the party; and the next day moved on. 



A SINGLE LADY TAKING NOTES, she traveled on alone; and later, despairing 

 of conveying direct human impressions without candid and forthright use 

 of the first person singular, she wrote as a forest reporter to her Chief in 

 Washington : 



You know the St. Joe Forest of Northern Idaho. The camp sites run 

 along one side of a broad grass field and the river swings out on the far side 

 close to the trees. This has become a favorite picnic place for the farmers 

 nearby and the mill hands of the Potlatch Lumber Company. About 30 log 

 tables and stoves are scattered irregularly in the cool shade under the pines. 

 I pitched camp here Saturday evening. The only other campers were a 

 family from Potlatch at a site nearby. 



Sunday I woke slowly. The sun was up and the mosquitoes were buzz- 

 ing. I heard the deep rolling laughter of sturdy men and intermittent thuds 

 of heavy objects dropping on the duff. I opened my eyes and looked around. 

 My watch said only 5 o'clock. Not far away stood a big open truck and men, 

 most of them very young, were unloading ice cream and beer kegs. Others 

 were driving stakes. 



"Look there, those folks may wanna sleep," one of them said. "Too bad. 

 Guess they just can't!" 



