and forget what he saw when his head came 



322 



out of water 



rV/j€r/€f //Mr While we are waiting for him to grow 

 jd/fnonJUinp q U j e |. — « resting him," the salmon fishermen 



call it - — let us find out, if we can, what he is 

 doing here, and why he halts so long in the 

 midst of all this turmoil, while his instincts 

 are calling him steadily up the river to the 

 quiet shallows where his life began. 



First, look down into the water there at 

 your feet, where the river is running swiftly 

 but smoothly over the yellow pebbles near 

 shore. Nothing but smiles, dimples, and 

 crinkly yellow lights, whirling and chan- 

 ging ceaselessly, as if the river here were 

 full of liquid sunshine. Look again; curve 

 a hand on either side of your eyes to shut 

 out the side-lights, and look steadily just 

 below that round yellow stone under its 

 three feet of crinkly sunshine. At first you 

 see nothing, your eyes being full of the flash- 

 ing surfaces and the dimpling lights and 

 shadows of the yellow flood. Suddenly, as 

 if a window were opened in the river, you 

 see a vague quivering outline. " Did he just 



