3i3 



Ptftere /fie 

 Salmon Jump 



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through a huge pool sedately; and then goes 

 shouting down the rapids to another fall. 

 Birds are singing to the swelling buds; the 

 wind rustles among the new leaves and hums 

 steadily in the spruce tops; the air quivers 

 to the rhythmic throbbing of the falls ; a deep 

 organ peal rolls up from the rapids; but all 

 these sounds and subtle harmonies are but 

 dreams of the sleeping woods, — for listen! 

 over all broods the unbroken silence of the 

 wilderness. 



Just below the falls, where the torrent 



spreads into hurrying white channels, a man 



with a salmon rod is standing on a flat rock 



that juts into the current. All the bright 



sunny morning he has been standing there, 



his ears full of bird and river music, his eyes 



full of the rushing foam and sunlight of the 



river, his heart brimful of all that is 



"™ good in the wilderness. A couple 



of salmon, little nine-pounders, lie 



on a shaded mossy bank, where 



Noel sits smoking his pipe. Now 



sfegsgas and then the Indian quietly 



advises trying a pool lower 



