THE OREGON SPORTSMAN 31 



While setting up my cot on the gravel I saw something splashing 

 in the water just below me. It was a bright moonlight night. I took 

 a shotgun and went stumbling as quietly as I could over the gravel 

 towards it. It was a large otter. He came up the river within a few 

 yards of our fire. I made no attempt to shoot it, as its fur was not 

 good at that time of year. 



'The sun rose before we did the next morning. There were lots of 

 otter and mink signs along the river. I think this would be a good 

 place to hunt and trap, as but few people lived along the river. On 

 one side was some fine looking deer country, and many deer tracks. 

 We heard a shot a mile or so down the river. It sounded like a can- 

 non, it made Such a roar. 



We came ro some bad rapids. From the shore we could see no pos- 

 sible way of getting a boat through without hitting the rocks, so we 

 led our boats down along the bank. It was rocky and so rough that 

 our boats were almost filled before we got them past the falls. 



Two fellows were coming up the river bank with guns. They 

 caught sight of us, took to the brush and we never saw them again. 

 Across the river, near the mouth of a little creek, another fellow was 

 sitting on a rock with a gun in his hands. We decided to have a talk 

 with the fellow on the other side, if we could reach him. We rowed 

 over and found him bolder than the other two, for he did not run. He 

 had an old-style 10 gauge Winchester shotgun. I concluded he w r as the 

 one who had fired the shot we had hoard. By his shooting only once, 

 I surmised that he had killed a doer. I Avas rather curious to know 

 about it, so we talked about hunting deer, and I asked if there weren't 

 lots of them around and if this wasn's a good place to run them in the 

 river with dogs. We talked a long time, thinking perhaps his dogs 

 would run another deer and we would soe if he would kill it. 



T wont to the mouth of tho little crook a few yards from whore he 

 was sitting to got a drink. I picked op some shotgun wads and noticed 

 the prints of buckshot on one of them. Farther on I saw blood spattered 

 over the rocks, and where something had been dragged up the bank 

 into the brush. Deer hairs were scattered along. The fellow looked 

 rather funny when he saw me examining the spot, but said nothing. I 

 didn't either, but we got into our boats and Avent on. T think he felt 

 relieved that we asked no questions. 



Several miles below we came to some bad rapids, with a channel 

 so narrow in' places that there was hardly room to use the oars. We 

 decided it was too rough to ride and let one boat down with a rope. 

 Hugh rode his boat through. 



We arrived at Scottsburg about 4 P. M. the fourth day and camped 

 on Brandy Bar, about six miles below the town. We could hear the 

 salmon jumping all the time around us. The next morning the wind 

 was blowing hard, the water was rough and roily — just right for good 

 fishing. Before breakfast Hugh caught one of the finest salmon I 

 have ever seen. 



I will describe the tackle we used for salmon fishing. We had 

 split bamboo trolling rods, about six and a half feet long, weighing 

 about 16 ounces each. We had large double multiplying reels, made to 

 hold 250 yards of line and used 200 yards of number 18 cuttyhunk line 

 and G guitar string for leader. Our spoons varied from number 1/0 to 

 number 7. We had the best success with a number 1/0 half gold spoon, 

 lower outside gold, upper outside nickel-plated, the inside painted red. 



The cannery was running a boat and buying fish. They paid 20 

 cents each for silversides and 3 cents a pound for chinook. The cold 

 storage plant at Gardiner paid 3 cents a pound for all salmon but they 



