168 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 
section and township. Three camps were made on 
Diamond Creek, five miles apart. Then over the 
divide we went to Black Canyon, next on the south, 
and up that to the head. For we had to tie on to 
the work at the top, near Reed’s place, which we 
had left so shortly before. 
Black Canyon was considerably larger than 
Diamond Creek. Also, the fishing was better. 
Speckled trout in hundreds leaped through its shal- 
low ripples or lurked in the depths of its over- 
hung pools. 
Bert and Bob Moak were our star fishermen. 
They were always at it. Bert was accused of in- 
venting a method of automatic dish washing so that 
he might be free to dash off up or down stream di- 
rectly after meals. And Bob one day made a six- 
mile run in five hours in order to fish till supper 
time. We always held that he must have slid down 
a five-hundred-foot bluff to the river to accomplish 
the feat. \ 
While the rest of us were content to do our fish- 
ing on Sundays, we did not hesitate to help dispose 
of the trout when they were caught. And so plenti- 
ful were they that we had a mess practically every 
morning and evening while camped in the canyon. 
That this consideration added materially to our list 
of daily blessings need not be stated—at least, to 
one who has been some time greeted on his return 
from a long hike with the appetizing sight of fish 
