FISH AND FISHING. 



219 



lantern, Dean, the Lawyer, another mem- 

 ber of the Club, Ed. and the Fellow started 

 for the dam. We didn't see Dean catch 

 any fish, but those who were near enough 

 saw the Fellow fall down a bank, nearly 

 breaking his neck. 



We were up bright and early the next 

 morning, prepared to clean out the creek; 

 the team was hitched up, and we started, 

 ladies and all, for the upper stream. The 

 General Agent claimed to be a fly fisher- 

 man, and would use nothing else; but the 

 rest of us were content with a few red 

 worms for bait. We separated, each de- 

 termined to bring in more fish than the 

 other. The Fellow had caught 3 before 2 

 o'clock, and sat down on the bank, in dis- 

 gust, determined to wait until some other 

 member of the party came along. A splash 

 in the water, and Ed. was seen approaching 

 in nearly the same frame of mind, and with 

 no more fish. 



An inquiry from the Fellow as to wheth- 

 er the General Agent was having any suc- 

 cess, elicited the reply from Ed. that, 

 " whenever he had seen the Boss, he was 

 always fast to something, but it wasn't 

 trout." Soon we heard cuss words, and 

 looking around a bend in the stream, dis- 

 covered the General Agent fast to a tree, 

 standing in the middle of the creek, and 

 making wild grabs for the limbs, in a vain 

 effort to save his flies and leader. 



To cut our story short, fish were very 

 scarce, but fun was plenty. The General 

 Agent had been induced to purchase a pair 

 of. cloth bicycle shoes, with rubber soles, 

 to wade in. A few hours' soaking demon- 

 strated, to his entire satisfaction, that they 

 were a gigantic failure for that purpose. 

 They came apart, and we will never forget 

 seeing him sitting on a stone trying to tie 

 them on his feet, with a piece of line. The 

 climax came when his shoes dropped off 

 and gently floated down the stream, leav- 

 ing him bare-footed, footsore and mad, 3 

 miles up the creek, with nothing but cob- 

 blestones to walk home on. 



The last of the trip was uneventful, ex- 

 cepting the ride home, and is best de- 

 scribed in Buckbee's letter to the General 

 Agent, after leaving us, in which he says 

 " As a driver you are a failure, but you 

 make fair time." 



FISHING AT GREAT FALLS. 



JOHN ATKINS. 



Pat Donnelly, late of Kilkenny, and I, to 

 make good use of our holiday, went last 

 4th of July to the Great Falls of the Mis- 

 souri. To arrive in good season, we started 

 the evening before, in a double wagon, 

 stocked with solid necessaries and some 

 fluid luxuries of life. Our reception at the 

 first town on our route was anything but 

 flattering. We were greeted with an up- 



roarious yelping, and the inhabitants 

 rushed with one accord to the entrances 

 of their dwellings, and as we drew nearer 

 vanished within. Even the owls flirted 

 their tails disrespectfully -at us as they 

 dived into their burrows. We looked in 

 vain for rattlesnakes, and I do not believe 

 they ever live in a populated prairie dog 

 town. 



We reached the falls early in the even- 

 ing; camped in a cottonwood grove, and 

 caught our supper, in the shape of white- 

 fish and chubs. Chub may not be the right 

 name for the fish we secured. Some call 

 them pea-noses. I fancy they are a kind of 

 trout, as they have the little fin near the 

 tail, and rise freely to a fly. 



Early in the morning we drew the set- 

 lines we had out. There were 3 catfish on 

 mine, and Pat's had 5, all large. One in 

 particular was a whale. Then we began 

 fishing with flies. Once in a while we 

 caught a trout, and when we did it was a 

 3 or 4 pounder, that made the reel whirr 

 and click before we landed him. By noon, 

 we each had a good basket of trout, white- 

 fish and silver bass. The latter are very 

 game fish when hooked in live water. 



I have found the most successful flies 

 here to be a red and gold body with dark 

 wings, green and yellow bodies, and all 

 black, tied on No. 10 hooks. They are kill- 

 ers every time. A 12 foot rod is not long 

 enough to whip the Missouri. A stiff 16 

 foot, rod is best. The most killing lure 

 used here is a white maggot put on a small 

 fly. No whitefish, grayling or trout will 

 pass it. Strange to say, we have no angle 

 worms here, nor in most places in Mon- 

 tana. Perhaps the country is too new for 

 them. 



I have fished mountain streams at the 

 summit, on the Great Northern, and have 

 often fed 20 men with trout, the catch of an 

 hour's fishing. That is the place to banish 

 fish hogs to. They can take trout, 3 at a 

 cast, until they are sick of the business, and 

 reform. 



AS TO THE BULL TROUT. 



White Salmon, Wash. 



Editor Recreation: The writer of an 

 article on bull trout, in Recreation, said 

 he did not know why this fish is so called, 

 unless because it is such a stubborn fighter. 

 Locally, we call it a bull trout on account 

 of its big head; particularly large where it 

 joins the body, while the body tapers 

 sharply. 



When this fish's mouth is closed, he 

 more resembles a pike than a trout, and 

 is nearly on the lines of the pickerel. He 

 might be called the pickerel of the Colum- 

 bia. His natural food seems to be live fish 

 of any kind, though he is not particular 



