Reserved for " Honorable Mention " 



Here is a wonderfully thrilling trout story. It 

 comes from the pen of Mr. Phil. S. Rogers, of Den- 

 ver, Colorado. He very modestly tells me that he 

 is not a writer but hopes his story may interest some 

 of the boys who love the square-tail as he does. I 

 know that every reader of his story will agree that 

 he is 'most as good a writer as he is a fisher and, I 

 venture to say, that's " going some." " Phil " is also 

 kind enough to write : " You sure get some noble 

 ideas under your old bass hat and don't keep them 

 there either." Thanks, old man. 



Tragic moments are by no means rare to the man 

 who takes his recreation on the wonder streams of the 

 Rocky Mountains. The clear cold waters rushing over 

 countless rocks, racing through the rapids, and swing- 

 ing the bends, form many pools, eddies and swirls 

 where the several varieties of trout, the most beautiful, 

 spectacular, and gamiest (did I step on some one's 

 toes there?) of fresh water fish, find an ideal home. 



My most tragic moment was the result of a hunting 

 rather than fishing trip. While away back in the big 

 hills one morning, following a rather strenuous hunt 

 after goats the day before in a rough country, I decided 

 to rest a little and try the flies. I had brought along 



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