220 



RECREATION. 



about his food. Any old thing goes, either 

 on top or under the water. 



He can be taken with fly, spoon, salmon 

 eggs and bits of meat, if the hook is kept 

 in motion. His mouth opens clear back of' 

 the eyes, so when he spreads it, to grab a 

 spoon or a fly, he rarely misses. 



The bull trout is a little off in color and 

 a deep-water fighter; while the flesh of the 

 silver trout, found in the same waters, is 

 white and he does his fighting near the 

 surface. The instant one is struck, he 

 seems to think water is not good enough. 

 He jumps and jumps, shaking his head, 

 trying to cast out what he cannot swallow. 

 Many a time, to my sorrow, has a silver 

 trout let go when 4 feet in the air. The 

 slack line and straight pole telling the tale 

 too quickly. 



Last August, with one companion, I 

 went.to the Little White Salmon, a stream 

 flowing into the Columbia. A sandbar here 

 causes the stream to form a lake before 

 emptying into the river. This stream is a 

 breeding place for salmon, and as their 

 eggs are eagerly sought by all kinds of 

 trout, there is good fishing in the little lake. 



The first evening we took 8 bull trout, 

 none of large size; 3^4 pounds the largest. 

 However, as I lost 2 double leaders, I knew 

 there were some big fish down below. We 

 fished without reels, so had to haul the fish 

 in, without much chance to play them. 



The next 2 days were failures, so far as 

 big fish were«concerned. The third day my 

 companion gave it up in disgust and went 

 for deer; but I wanted trout. 



When the shadows began to fall across 

 the lake, I went out to a scow, anchored 

 near the shore, while the men on board 

 laughed at my innocence. This time I had 

 doubled 2 double leaders, so was ready for 

 anything. 



Soon the tip of my cane pole touched 

 the water. I struck, got struck and was 

 thunder-struck. It was some time before 

 I could get the pole clear of the water. 

 Around and around the fish went, the men 

 calling to me to hang on to him — as if such 

 advice was necessary. Once he swirled 

 near enough the surface to be seen; then 

 I asked the men to give me a lift. They 

 came, after a time, when the bull was about 

 done for. One of them held a sack under 

 the water, and I dragged the fish on it. 



"Well I'll be hanged," the man ex- 

 claimed; "the biggest trout I ever saw!" 

 It weighed 7 pounds. 



During the evening, my friend, who re- 

 turned as I landed the trout, and I took 17 

 bull trout, weighing 45 pounds. 



Last season the Government established 

 a hatchery on the Little White Salmon, 

 putting in dams and traps. How this may 

 affect " bully " and me is uncertain, but I 

 hope it will not interfere with either. The 

 bull trout is big game. 



R. F. Bradford, Jr. 



IN CASCADE WOODS AND WATERS. 



Tacoma, Wash. 



Editor Recreation: I have just re- 

 turned from a 10 days' outing in the hills 

 and on the prairie, and must have my little 

 say, to the rest of the boys, through the 

 columns of your magazine. 



Starting from this city on the 12th of 

 July we, 4 in number, turned our heads 

 South toward the De Chutes river. Two 

 days' riding, on horseback, brought us to 

 our fishing grounds, and on the third day 

 we were wading the river, sometimes in 

 the shallow, sunny rapids, sometimes in 

 the dark, deep pools where the water came 

 waist high. 



And silently the river stealeth by 



Amid long wastes of trees, 

 And taking all the blueness from the sky, 



It bears it to the seas. 



A beautiful stream, with long, straight 

 stretches of silent water, sometimes broken 

 by a ripple that bubbles under a fallen log; 

 and here and there an ever widening circle 

 spreads over the glassy surface of some 

 deep pool, showing where a trout has risen 

 to grab a poor insect which has unhappily 

 wet its wings. 



Here we fished for 3 days, catching all 

 we could use, and having about 50 fish 

 over, which we brought home to our fam- 

 ilies. We were informed by the natives 

 that the best fishing of the season was 

 past, but we were perfectly satisfied with 

 the results of our angling. 



On the 16th of July we pulled out for the 

 Mashel river, which rises not far from that 

 pride of the Northwest, Mount Tacoma. 



We reached this river the evening of the 

 same day. Here we camped, and enjoyed 

 the scenery, doing a little fishing and hunt- 

 ing when we felt so disposed. 



Our hunting was not a grand success, 

 as all game excepting bears was protected 

 by law at that time. While at this place I 

 met 2 old trappers and hunters, who still 

 managed to gain a livelihood from the old 

 forest. Although the game laws are not 

 enforced in that district, these men say 

 game can never be exterminated in that 

 portion of the country, on account of its 

 rugged and impenetrable character. Mile 

 after mile of tangled forest and thunder- 

 ing rivers, and of rugged mountains ever 

 rising higher and higher until they reach 

 the eternal snows of the main divide, 

 where the bear and elk hold sway over an 

 undefined domain; such is the country com- 

 prising the foot hills of the Cascade moun- 

 tains. 



Ah! still some mountains wild and free 



Are left to cheer the soul, 

 Where whispers gently o'er the lea 

 The pine trees murmur , ceaselessly, 



And free the rivers roll. 



