TragicFishing Moments 



a well-regulated home. He gathered his package and 

 his tobacco box full of the usual junk, and when Lizzie 

 came, Sunday at about two in the morning, he was as 

 " P e PP7 " as we were an d " rarin " to go. 



It was a great pleasure to see the years fall from 

 him and although usually taciturn, he talked a blue 

 streak all the thirty-five miles to the first creek. These 

 are " grasshopper " creeks too narrow and grass 

 grown to get a fly to, and at many places even too over- 

 grown with grass to get a hopper into. 



We hit the first one just as it was getting light 

 enough to find hoppers. It was a perfect morning, 

 everything set. Jesse was as cocky as an Airedale pup, 

 and assured us that, when he got his pole to working, 

 he would have his limit by eight, and then would have 

 to help us catch ours. The thrill of anticipation had 

 him and he acted about thirteen years old. 



First out of the car, he got his junk from under my 

 feet. All of a sudden, he " blew up." I have said he 

 was quiet and unobtrusive. Right then, he was not. 

 He sure does know lots of one-hundred-proof swear 

 words, and I learned a great number from him in the 

 next minute or two. Calamity had overtaken him. He 

 had thrown his package into the grass, and after we 

 had calmed him and had him coherent again, he showed 

 us what he had trustingly brought thirty-five miles on 

 a trout trip. What he had thought was his package of 

 " poles " were two little parasols belonging to his girls ! 



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