366 DAN BEARD'S ANIMAL BOOK 



what disappointed me. Although we had canned 

 goods galore at the camp, I thought these cold- 

 bodied, pink-fleshed fish would be a welcome addi- 

 tion to our menu, and so I made another and 

 another cast, and soon had such a fine string of 

 fish that I became more particular as to the length 

 of the trout hooked. 



Acting on this principle, the next time I found 

 a ten-inch trout was hooked, I steered the fighting 

 fish right into the swiftest waters to give it a chance 

 to break loose, and save a lazy man the trouble 

 of unhooking it. 



THERE WAS A MIGHTY SPLASH 



and my trout disappeared, while the line started di- 

 rectly out to sea. In my utter astonishment I 

 allowed the line- to run, and it was not until two 

 hundred feet of braided oil silk had unwound from 

 the clicking reel that there was a pause. It was 

 the fiercest onslaught I had ever experienced in 

 many years of angling. The rush of my trout 

 had in it all of the impetuosity and savageness of 

 a tiger springing upon its prey. This was the first 

 time I had ever wet a line in the Rocky Mountains, 

 and I had no idea what sort of fish now had my 

 hook, but I did know that a ten-inch trout is a 

 good-sized mouthful for even 



A VERY LARGE FISH, 

 so I stood in that ice water unmindful of the deadly 



