SWIFT- WATER FISHING. 317 



It was a beautiful night. The moon was high in air 

 across the valley ; white mists were streaming up from the 

 basin below the fall ; weird shadows lay here and there 

 on the cleared ground ; the cry of a loon, from far up the 

 river, came mournfully through the forest ; the water raged 

 in the open basin, but the mists above it seemed to hush 

 it somewhat, as if they were its masters \ then sleep came 

 down peacefully on us all. 



Early in the morning I was out. Immediately above 

 the dam lay a timber raft used for repairing purposes. 

 This was swinging in the fierce current, held by two stout 

 hawsers made fast on the opposite sides of the river two 

 hundred feet above. This raft was lying in the swift 

 rush of the river toward the sluice-ways, the upper end 

 being some feet above the edge of the still, black water, 

 and the lower end only a few feet from the edge of the 

 dam. Trout ascending the river must make a sharp 

 rush of about a hundred feet up the sluice-ways. The 

 instant they reach the top, they can sink into the deep 

 water of the dam, and here they usually wait to rest after 

 the rush. As yet we had not seen any trout, and I knew 

 nothing of what to expect in the way of size or strength. 

 Standing on the raft I cast on the still water just at the 

 edge of the curve, and the fly swept down like lightning 

 as I drew across toward the raft. I am particular in de- 

 scribing this, as it will illustrate the ability of a well-made 

 seven -ounce rod which I was using. A dozen casts 

 brought nothing; then came the rush. He went over 

 the fly, a foot out of water, turned in the air, and struck 

 with open mouth as he went down. Of course he hooked 

 himself. No skill was needed to accomplish that. In 

 such water with such a leap the trout is sure to fix the 

 barb in his lip or jaw. His first dash was fearful. It 



