Angling in a Crater 31 



a jagged rent on its side looks as though it had 

 blown out yesterday. 



You row along the north shore, where the 

 forest sweeps down from the summit, a vivid 

 green envelope, the pine and fir trees gradually 

 giving way to aspens whose leaves twinkle and 

 shiver in the soft wind, while the sighing of the 

 pine comes through the trees like the notes of 

 a giant aeolian harp. Everywhere trout are ris- 

 ing. You drop a " kamloops " fly in a big swirl, 

 and you have him. Smash ! goes the tip, bending 

 to the very water. Whiz! goes the little reel, 

 and in a wild staccato tells of a splendid rush. 

 Then as you press your thumb on the spool, and 

 he feels the check, up into the air, two hundred 

 feet away, goes the glittering, scintillating rain- 

 bow, to send the drops flying, to coruscate in 

 the sunlight a moment as he comes rushing in 

 gleaming like a rainbow, to drop and rush away, 

 to come in again, encircle the boat, go into the 

 air again and again, and then go dancing a wild 

 ragadoon down the lake. You must save him, and 

 your boatman rows after him, while you reel, 

 and see in this pool, fifteen feet deep, droves 

 of splendid trout, catch glimpses of them as you 

 go by; and then the rainbow is in the air again, 

 coming slowly in, leaping ever and anon, fight- 

 ing the good fight, a game fish, until you have 

 him lashing the water on the quarter. The 

 boatman stealthilv slides the net beneath him 



