18 DAYS IN THE OPEN 



this is not very exciting, and his gaze begins to 

 wander to the woods. Is that crinkle-root? In- 

 vestigation yields a plentiful supply of the peppery 

 plant and also three or four ground-nuts. Then 

 the brook pulls him back to itself and a few rods 

 farther on he comes to a log across the stream and 

 partly under water. His heart gives a thump, for 

 this must be the place where Edwin Crumb caught 

 his big trout. It exactly fits the oft-repeated de- 

 scription. He leaves the bed of the brook, fetches 

 a circuit through the brush and comes out just 

 where he can drop his hook by the upper side of 

 the log in the still water. The answer to his invi- 

 tation is prompt, but the captive is not as large as 

 was anticipated. Again and yet again he returns 

 his lure only to meet a cordial reception, until five 

 fair-sized trout have been added to the alder 

 stringer; then activities cease. 



We cannot follow him all through his eventful 

 pilgrimage, but there is one experience that must 

 not go unrecorded. In a tangle of brush formed 

 by a tree-top which has fallen into a deep place in 

 the stream he spies an open space, possibly eighteen 

 inches in diameter, where the water is covered with 

 scum and foam. Just the place for a big trout, but 

 there is no way of getting even his short pole 

 through the brush. The line is untied, and he goes 

 crawling out on a limb that hangs over the brook, 

 and sits, at last, astride it and directly above the 

 enticing spot. A fresh and exceedingly fat angle- 



