THE SALMON FISHER. 105 



o'clock. As a rule, an early start is no object/ for 

 each daily run of fish takes place with the tide, and 

 the tides only serve on occasion. One after another 

 each boat gets away, and the camp is left alone in 

 charge of the cook, who remains sole representative 

 of the red flag which flutters and floats from the tall 

 staff on the tower. One boat drifts slowly down 

 stream with the current, a drag at its stern checking- 

 its progress. It has been assigned to the lower 

 pools. A second poles up along shore to the foot of 

 the first left-hand rapid, which is the outflow of the 

 Belle, and the angler disembarks and walks up along- 

 the pebbly shore of an island to his proper casting- 

 ground. On the opposite side of the island is the 

 companion pool of the Belle, called the Kate. These 

 pools are always assigned to one rod when there are 

 four rods to the river; and beautiful and well-named 

 they are. Sprightly, sparkling, and vocal with the 

 dash and roar which please the angler. The camp 

 is always visible from these pools, only a quarter of 

 a mile distant. The two other boats cross the river 

 and push for the foot of the Kate, where they are 

 beached, the occupants taking the path through the 



