66 The American Salmon-fisherman. 



hook as though it were made of lead, and threw it down 

 with " Humph ! dam gaff no good." 



Here was indeed a dilemma, and none the less embar- 

 rassing because totally unanticipated. It needed no argu- 

 ment or further demonstration to show he was right. It 

 was self-evident. The proprietor of my temporary home 

 was called into council to determine what was to be done. 

 He at once kindly solved the problem by tendering the 

 use of a gaff of his own. Its color, resembling that of 

 the barrel of a musket of the last century, showed it to 

 be a veteran, and its history, then briefly recounted, 

 placed the number of salmon which had been its victims 

 at a figure which I am afraid to repeat, lest I be thought 

 credulous or guilty of exaggeration. 



As Tom examined the implement his clearing counte- 

 nance sufficiently expressed his approval, and rendered 

 his sententious " This gaff all right" unnecessary to relieve 

 my anxiety. 



From the first time I ever took a fly-rod in my hands 

 until the present day, it has always been my practice to 

 pump men of this character until the well of their ex- 

 perience and information fairly sucks dry. No allegiance 

 to any pet theory obscures their prompt perception of 

 facts. Hard facts, and these alone, appeal to their com- 

 prehension, alone govern their opinions, and guide their 

 conduct. Their low average of intelligence as compared 

 with that of their employers, and their scanty information 

 of other and outside matters, are apt to induce an under- 

 estimate of their judgment and ability within the com- 

 paratively narrow scope of their specialty. It should not 

 be forgotten that the power of observation of these men 

 is not only hereditary, but is trained from their earliest 



