Sfiort in an Untouched American Wilderness 



I remained by the pool. It needs two 

 men to land a salmon. Presently I began 

 idly casting, just to try my new eighteen- 

 foot rod ; and the first thing I knew a fish 

 was hooked. He galloped around that 

 pool, jumping out, darting back and forth, 

 and I waded right in. After a while I 

 got him pretty tired. I had no landing- 

 net or gaff, but there was a smooth gravel 

 bar forty rods below. After a while I 

 towed the unfortunate fish down there, 

 got him headed for shore, and ran straight 

 back on the bar. Out he came, flopping 

 somersaults on the gravel. The gut leader 

 broke ; but I threw myself on top of that 

 salmon, and clasped my arms around him. 

 He was slippery and strong, and I could 

 not hold him. Finally I got my fingers 

 in his gills, reached for a stone, and gave 

 him three or four merciless whacks over 

 the head. Then I had him. I was a 

 sight to behold, wet and bespattered with 

 mud and slime ; but I was too proud, as 

 well as too nearly out of breath, for 

 words. 



Most of these streams are not readily 

 navigable for birch-bark canoes. Horses 

 cannot be used for the transportation of 

 camp luggage, because there is scant feed 

 for them. The sportsman who would pen- 



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