3 62 



RECREATION 



my hook. But in some mysterious and 

 unexplained manner I contrived to add 

 to my discomfiture and growing feeling 

 of imbecility by imbedding the hook in 

 the rim of my straw hat, which article 

 promptly swore allegiance to its new- 

 found friend and sailed away to offer 

 itself as a bait to any whale of the 

 Jonah species that might have fond- 

 ness for hay. 



It was no doubt owing to the fact 

 that angling on the Klickitat is still 

 in the unprofessional stage that none 

 of those monster leviathans have yet 

 been seen in its waters. So my way- 

 ward headgear, under the persuasion of 

 rod and reel, came back to its first and 

 only love in a manner that reminded 

 me of the times when I have towed 

 a hideous mud turtle to the bank. It 

 was not with a feeling of relief that 

 I finally restored my erring hat to its 

 throne. 



After numberless futile attempts I 

 learned to make some fairly respectable 

 casts ; but for some unknown reason 

 the fish absolutely refused to give me 

 the pleasure of venting my anger on 

 them, while Johnson was all the time 

 nulling them out in a manner that filled 

 me with astonishment and a reverent 

 admiration. 



Having noted my fruitless efforts, he 

 finally ventured to tell me to put on a 

 different fly, but I had no better luck 

 than before. "Try a hopper," said 

 Johnson. It was with a conviction that 

 a hoodoo was working against me that I 

 produced a large gray grasshopper 

 from a pocket of my wet garments 

 and impaled him on my hook in a high- 

 ly artistic manner. 



Going up the stream to a spot where, 

 about twenty feet from the bank there 

 was a big boulder with the water boil- 

 ing over and around it, Johnson said 

 that "this ought to be a good place for 

 a big fellow." I made several unsuc- 

 cessful attempts to cast my bait directly 

 over that rock, and was becoming dis- 

 couraged when by a lucky cast I put 

 it just where the water broke over the 

 boulder, and the instant my hook 



touched water there rose to the surface 

 the biggest trout I had yet seen. As 

 quick as a flash it seized the grasshop- 

 per with the ferocity of a Kansas tor- 

 nado, and before I could yield the reel 

 to him, he had snapped my rod close 

 up to the handle. As long as I live 

 I shall never forget the experience of 

 the next few minutes. The line was 

 a good one and held. It was but the 

 work of a moment to get hold of the 

 broken tip, and, holding the two pieces 

 in my left hand, I worked the reel with 

 my right. With incredible swiftness 

 the frightened fish ran out my eighty 

 yards of line, and when brought to a 

 stop by the elasticity of the rod, leaped 

 bodily out of the water, giving the line 

 a series of electric jerks that sent my 

 heart with a bound into my throat. 

 In an agony of fear, lest the coveted 

 prize break loose and gain his liberty, 

 I played him back and forth, the slen- 

 der silken line cutting the water like a 

 knife ; meanwhile my reel was giving 

 vent to spasmodic shrieks as he made 

 one dash after another. However, I 

 could see that his efforts were growing 

 less energetic with each successive ef- 

 fort, and I was wild with joy when 

 at last the reel forced my prize close 

 enough to get hold of him and lift him 

 out on the bank, where, without fur- 

 ther ceremony, I sat down on him and 

 rested, until my heart worked back 

 from where it had got jammed in my 

 throat to its normal position. I then 

 gave vent to an ear-splitting war whoop 

 of happiness. 



What mattered it if my neck was 

 swollen and bleeding? 



What mattered it if my clothes were 

 as wet and chilly as cold tripe to the 

 touch? If all the woeful luck of fisher- 

 men for decades back had been mine, 

 I was happy now; I had had the fight 

 of my life and had come out victorious. 



With wet garments and a lacerated 

 neck encircled by a bloody handker- 

 chief and a care free disposition, if the 

 passengers on the home-bound "trip did 

 think poor old Johnson was some offi- 

 cer of the law who, after an exciting 



