AMONG THE CUT-THROATS 



height of three or four thousand feet, while at 

 the upper end they tower nine thousand feet 

 almost precipitously from the water. The water 

 of the lake is clear and blue, the mountains crowd 

 upon it in their silent majesty, the air is clean and 

 refreshing. 



On some still morning when the winds do not 

 disturb the bosom of the lake, nature is at its 

 best. In the lake we saw pictures that cannot be 

 reproduced by any skill of man; miles of flawless 

 mirror in which mountains and crags and trees and 

 clouds were reproduced with matchless fidelity. 

 Sometimes the clouds hung for hours over the 

 summits of the mountains, and here and there 

 were great masses of snow which no summer heat 

 could banish. Looking up the valley of the 

 Stehekin towards the north, twenty-five miles away 

 rises a huge mountain, down the side of which 

 a giant glacier makes its way. And the best of all 

 is that here one is " far from the madding crowd." 

 At the head of the lake is a hotel and a fish hatch- 

 ery; no store, no factory, not even a Chautauqua. 



It has taken a long time to get to the cut-throats, 

 but we have arrived at last. The books on fishing 

 assure one that the cut-throat " takes the artificial 

 fly greedily," and all the way the right arm has 

 been fairly tingling with anxiety to begin casting. 

 Alas ! and again alas ! The hotel clerk says that it 

 is too early for the fly ; we must use bait or a spoon. 

 It is the old story over again. Did you ever 



