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Mtere tfte 

 Salmon Jump 



thunder of the waterfall trying to catch it. 

 The green banks and bushes scud away like 

 clouds before the wind. Even the great solid 

 rock under foot joins the swift, unsteady pro- 

 cession; and down we all go, trees, rocks, and 

 river, swaying, jumping, singing, and shout- 

 ing together on a glorious chase through the 

 wilderness. 



In the midst of the rush and tumult the 

 clear, sweet song of Killooleet, the white- 

 throated sparrow, follows us, as if he were say- 

 ing, Good-by, Friend Fisherman, Fisherman, 

 Fisherman. And, spite of all the apparent 

 uproar of rocks and river, the exquisite little 

 melody sounds in our ears as clearly as if 

 Killooleet were singing behind our tent in 

 the twilight stillness. 



The man's head grows dizzy with 

 the delusion. His foothold, at best, 

 is none too steady over the rush- 

 ing torrent; so he closes his eyes 

 to bring back the reality of 

 things. And the reality 

 must be good indeed, 

 judging by the way 



