GILBERT AND GOLDEN TROUT 179 



constitutes a sensation of perfect pleasure. The 

 fisherman frequently, without reahsing it, blends 

 many subtle sensations ; he caters to many senses, 

 and the result is bUss, often absolute bhss and satis- 

 faction which make him the most patient, per- 

 severing man on earth, even while at times they 

 unfortunately render him utterly selfish. 



But I am wandering from my subject and had 

 better abandon the attempt to analyse the philo- 

 sophy of anghng, and return with equal futility 

 to attempt describing the beauty of the High 

 Sierras. Let the reader come with me and we 

 will enter the country together. Quickly we will 

 pass over the long, dusty drive from Visalia, during 

 which the heat parches the skin and renders the 

 tongue dry and leathery, along the road of no 

 shade, where a man who would rest must find the 

 slim shadow of a slender telegraph pole to shelter 

 his spine from the scorching rays of the sun. A 

 few hours and it is past. We reach the foot-hiUs, 

 where there is vegetation and shade. In the last 

 golden hght of the setting sun we reach our 

 destination, a small inn, where we put up for the 

 night and where we find our pack mules and saddle- 

 horses awaiting us according to instructions. Every- 

 thing is made ready for an early morning start, for 

 we shall have to travel some forty miles or more if 

 we would halve the distance to the Kern River. 

 Long before dawn we are up, and after a hasty 

 breakfast the balky mules are safely loaded with 

 our simple outfit : food, fishing tackle, cameras and 

 warm blankets, and that is all. WhUe the valley 

 below is still slumbering in the purple haze of early 



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