SALMON AND TROUT MEMORIES 



quent voracity was highly interesting. The water, as a rule, 

 was so clear that I could often see the trout before I caught 

 them. It was, of course, necessary to keep out of sight. If 

 this condition was duly observed, I found that a fish that was 

 moving here and there in a pool or stream, obviously on the 

 look-out for food, would always come like a tiger at my fly. 

 Occasionally, in the first headlong rush, he missed it. When 

 this happened, it was only necessary to wait a few moments, 

 and then cast over him again, when the fly would usually be 

 taken with savage greediness. On the other hand, if the 

 trout were lying motionless on the bottom, as I often saw them, 

 no fly would move them. They were in this case not feeding, 

 and apparently alseep. 



There is a great fascination in fishing unknown waters 

 in foreign lands. It was my lot to be one of the pioneers in 

 a hunting expedition to the Big Horn Mountains of Wyoming 

 more than thirty years ago. For some mysterious reason, 

 the streams flowing eastward from the Great Divide were 

 troutless — I say " were " advisedly, for rainbow-trout have since 

 been successfully introduced into these same eastern streams 

 — while the western streams teemed with fish. In the Big 

 Horn, in those days, the trout were numerous and quite unused 

 to the wiles of the artificial fly. Any kind of lure dropped 

 in the streams and beaver-pools of the western watershed 

 was voraciously swallowed. One of our hunters was most 

 successful with a pole, string and hook, baited with fresh 

 bear-meat, which was cast with a splash into the beaver-dam 

 pools, and promptly seized by the smartest trout, often 2 lb. 



107 



