888 



FOREST AND STREAM. 



[Dec 8, 1887. 



Well, Arrow come out an' sayum, 'Berry sorry to seeum 

 Tomahawk tellum one big lie, when it sayum good men 

 'long river so bad. Little Lookumovers bes' men all 

 world, so is der brudder and cousins. Watohum beiTy 

 good river all time. Never so well lookum after 'fore.' 



"Sartin this makum men 'long river feel berry good, 

 sweanun for big side votum nex time, but all same 

 catchum salmon all time. 



"Well, Big Lookumover t'ink somet'ing all wrong, come 

 up seeum Little Lookumover, but Little Lookumover 

 seeum come, bidum. 



" 'Where Lookumover?' him say to white squaw. 



" 'O him gone up river two,' tbree day, lookum for 

 nets,' squaw say. Big Lookumover tinkum all right, go 

 home. 



"Well, game 'peep no seeum' goum on all summer, 

 Little Lookumover dodgiun Big Lookumover, an' bad 

 white man dodgum both, all same 's old schoolmaster an' 

 cunnin' pappoose clown village. Byrne bye Little Lookum- 

 over tinkum better takum peep up river. Putty soon he 

 findum net jes same 's you to day, takum home, no lookum 

 more. Well, nex' time, two, free, four day, Arrow havum 

 long pow wow 'bout how smart Little Lookumover be, 

 gettum net, only one on river. Never nets so scarce 

 'fore. Hopum all peoples no forgettuin bad Tomahawk 

 nex' 'lection." 



"Now, Sak, you've told us all about bad white men, 

 are there no bad Indians killum salmon, too?'' asked Phil. 



At this Sak and the rest laughed heartily; but presently 

 the former rose from his squat, cross-legged posture, 

 straightened himself up, and added with much good 

 humor: 



"Sposem more better, asMosesay, me no teUum — telluni 

 —what you callum? Wag, wag outen school." 



And now we rose and said "Good night." How calm 

 and cool the air! How deeply blue the sky studded with 

 glistening pearls! How black the great pool! How 

 solemn the deathlike companionship of those rugged 

 hills! Here we seemed to stand mere conscious atoms 

 amid the vast, the grand, the sublime in nature, and how 

 strongly felt we the truth of tbat awful dictum, "Dust 

 thou art!" And as we lay in our tent and listened to the 

 hollow roar of the mighty f alls, how near we seemed to the 

 Great Unknown, and how strangely was our falling asleep 

 like a sinking, sinking into the vast eternity of forgetful- 

 ness. Chiktek. 

 Newcastle, New Brunswick. 



COLORADO TROUT STREAMS. 



DENVER, Col., Nov. 23.— On the 21st of July my good 

 friend the Judge (Bourgeois) was with me on the 

 banks of Grand River for a campaign against the trout. 

 For eleven summers we have fished together in the 

 streams of Middle Park, and will probably keep it up as 

 long as we are able to fish at all. We have pretty well 

 learned each other's gait, and make a fair working team, 

 if not a handsome one. The Judge is a good fisherman, 

 and, of course, a capital fellow; but he professes to think 

 that catching a trout in any other way tban with a fly is 

 wrong in principle and an imposition upon the fish. 

 Imagine my surprise, then, at the discovery that he had 

 brought over with him this season a coffee pot full of 

 angle worms. Of course, when I rallied him about his 

 lack of faith in the seductive fly and falling back on fish 

 worms, he denied any such intent, and averred that he 

 brought them, not to fish with, but to "plant." Why 

 he should want to plant that which he never expects to 

 gather or use, and which be thinks no other fisherman 

 should ever use, is one of those problems that I cannot 

 guess; but in order that his conscience might be clear and 

 easy, I went with him to plant the worms, and saw that 

 it was done, and well done. He afterward admitted to 

 me, under a searching cross-examination, that he had 

 once or twice before brought along meal worms for bait, 

 "but" (mournfully) "the plagued trout wouldn't look at 

 them." Also, that he had a similar experience in carry- 

 ing angle worms to the Arkansas in San Luis Park. But 

 what the Judge especially condemns is the use of the 

 grasshopper for bait, and the reason for this I can under- 

 stand perfectly — he cannot overtake, or circumvent, or 

 otherwise capture the festive grasshopper. 



The Judge has another hobby; he believes religiously 

 that no bird should be shot except on the wing — that the 

 man who is unable to knock down a quail, a grouse or a 

 duck while flying ought not to be allowed to shoot at all — 

 that he shouldn't eat chickens. I have almost convinced 

 him that it is the further duty of the sportsman who 

 shoots on the wing to audibly count three after the bird is 

 flushed before he pulls the trigger. This is to give the 

 bird a show. But the Judge's kindness of heart and con- 

 sideration for the birds is more practical than toward the 

 fish. I have never known him to ruffle the feathers of 

 one, except an old hen grouse, that he accidently kicked 

 off her nest when fishing. It is true he carries with him 

 every season a fine Parker 12-bore and several hundred 

 cartridges, but I never saw him use it. Formerly it was 

 in an ordinary leather gun case, and formed a visible 

 parcel of bis varied impedimenta, but five or six years 

 ago, one day while the Judge was out fishing, the Profes- 

 sor, who figures conspicuously in most of the Judge's 

 fishing romances, borrowed the gun and christened it by 

 killing t wo or three grouse. The gun was back in camp 

 all right when the Judge came in with his, as usual, creel 

 full of fish, but he saw the chicken feathers, pursued his 

 suspicions, convicted the Professor, and hasn't pardoned 

 him since. But he learned something, and took effective 

 precaution against such accidents thereafter. Since that 

 day his chokebore has taken its summer outing hidden 

 away in the interior of the Judge's "war bag," among his 

 other "duffle"' that is sacred to himself only. That is, he 

 tells me it is there, and I never doubt his word — not even 

 in a fish story. I have not seen the gun for five years. I 

 don't believe it has been fired since it left the factory, 

 except when the Professor stole it out as stated above. 



Well, we had day after day of delightful sport. Fished 

 up the river and down the river, and went several days to 

 William's fork of the Grand, four miles away. When 

 going a distance of three miles or more we generally rode 

 on horseback to the ground, picketed our horses and 

 fished as long as we cared to, saddled up and returned. 

 Our creels would be filled in from 1-J to 8 hours and we 

 never caught more. Many of the fish were of good size, 

 rtmning from H to lflbs. by the scales, but they did not 

 average as large, nor as evenly in size as the fish I caught 

 in the same waters a month earlier in the season, Mos- 

 uitoes, that occasionally troubled in June, had now all 



disappeared and there was no discomfort or annoyance 

 whatever. 



About the first of August a party of us went with a 

 carriage down the Grand to the mouth of the Trouble- 

 some, and when we returned in the evening left the 

 Judge there, sojourning at the house of a friend, to con- 

 tinue his sport among the big trout of that neighborhood. 

 He remained several days and had a capital time. The 

 next day I went fishing alone; rode horseback over the 

 divide and down to the mouth of the short canon three 

 miles below the Springs. I went determined to fish a 

 certain place, very difficult of access, in the mouth of the 

 canon, where in "former years I had several times taken 

 fine lots of trout. After picketing my horse in good 

 grass I walked across the point of the mesa and clam- 

 bered down into the gorge, finding the water at a good 

 stage for my purpose. I had tried it twice in June, but 

 the river was then too full, the water reaching up into the 

 brush. Now it was just right. There was the narrow 

 strip of broken rock between the foot of the steep hill and 

 the river channel, with strips and pools of still water 

 showing between them, and outside of that the two great 

 flat blocks of granite, rising 10 or 12in. above the water 

 and reaching out well into the channel. At their outer 

 edge the water was 4 or 5ft. deep, and I had always found 

 it, when at or near its present stage, a favorite feeding 

 place for trout. Repeatedly I had stood upon the big flat 

 rocks, or between them and the brush, and taken from 

 half a dozen to a dozen good fish, but the last time was 

 five years ago. The hillside is thickly covered with brush 

 and trees, of which the lower fringe is black alders that 

 project over the water, leaving no room to cast. The 

 water was perfectly clear, and I found the pool, instead 

 of having a school of fish in it, was occupied by one very 

 large (for these waters; trout and a small one. The big 

 fellow lay just outside the rocks and generally in such a 

 position that he could see through between them and 

 watch my motions. Occasionally he would take a, place 

 a little higher or a little lower, but I could always see 

 some portion of his body through the 6 or Sin. space 

 between the rocks. The small fish danced about in the 

 current 6 or 8ft. below. 



Naturally I wanted that particular trout because it was 

 larger than any thus far caught in the neighborhood this 

 season. I tried my flies on him, one after another, until 

 I had exhibited samples of the entire assortment. At 

 each new fly he would rise lazily and take a look at it 

 and then settle as lazily back to his resting place. His 

 appetite appeared to be satisfied and his curiosity was 

 not impulsive. I "rested" him by fishing up and down 

 stream, to come back after a time, but it was no use. He 

 remembered the cheat and would have none of it. Then 

 I regretted the departure from my rule that day for the 

 first time that season , which was to always carry a little 

 tin box with a few grasshoppers in it for just such emer- 

 gencies as this one had become. It was clearly a case of 

 grasshopper or no trout — that is, not that trout. Possibly 

 a grasshopper would not entice him, but it was worth 

 the trial anyhow. So I laid down my rod and clambered 

 up the side of the mountain, through the tangle of alders 

 and briers and then among the sage brush and over slid- 

 ing rocks until I reached a shoulder or bench st udded with 

 small nut pines and cedars, where half a dozen big flut- 

 tering grasshoppers were soaring and rattling their cas- 

 tanets. The sun beat square against the face of the hill, 

 all breeze was cut off by the trees and it was broiling- hot. 

 The warmer it is the more active, lively and wary is the 

 big grasshopper, the further and higher he soars and the 

 louder he rattles his wing cases. Armed with a pine 

 bough, back and forth, up and down I chased after one 

 'hopper and then another. The first would climb up the 

 mountain, the next sail across the canon and the river, 

 one would take refuge hi a tree and another would crawl 

 under a rock. I tumbled over the rocks, got tangled up 

 in sage brush, thrashed the ground, perspired and thanked 

 my lucky stars that the Judge was not in sight. In fact 

 I was glad he was at that moment ten miles away. Per- 

 severance tells and at last a poor unfortunate grasshopper 

 was overtaken. He was caught between my brush and the 

 mountainside. When the cyclone was over he looked 

 like the victim of a railway "disaster. I gathered the re- 

 mains from the dust and was rejoiced to find that they 

 hung together. They were all there, the great double 

 wings with their gaudy colors, and bright mottled body 

 and the vigorous legs. I plunged down the mountainside 

 with my prize, bent on a snelled hook, baited it with the 

 late deceased and dropped it in the current just above my 

 speckled friend. As it floated over him he looked at it 

 with one eye. Waiting a moment I repeated the maneu- 

 ver. He looked at it with the other eye. He even rose a 

 hand's breadth from his resting place. I waited a little 

 nervously for the third cast. "The third time is the 

 charm," you know. I learned that when a barefooted 

 cub, I caught "shiners" and "goggle-eyes" and "catties," 

 in the creeks of the old Buckeye State. Had the third 

 cast, with my pulverized and only grasshopper, failed 

 now I would have been discouraged and utterly cast down 

 — but it didn't. Like a snowflake (or a snowball), the 

 lure again fell upon the shimmering water and was borne 

 gently adown the current. As it came near his troutship 

 there was a dash and a strike; an involuntary motion 

 quicker than premeditated thought and he was fast. For 

 a moment the water fairly foamed around him, and into 

 it came another flash from below. The small trout, the 

 big one's tender, had struck and. hooked itself upon a small 

 dropper fly a yard above the other. A moment and the 

 big one darted for the middle of the river and the reel 

 sung its familiar song. 



I realized that it would be hopeless to attempt landing 

 my fish where I stood upon broken, jagged rocks that ex- 

 tended far out into the stream. Fifty yards below there 

 was a little sand beach that sloped gently into the water. 

 It was 8 or 4ft. wide above the water and perhaps 20ft. 

 long and marked the slack current below the rocks. Be- 

 low that again the river cut into the bank beneath the 

 trees so that it became absolutely impassable. The little 

 sand beach was my only hope. Keeping my unequal 

 team well in hand, away in the middle of the river, I 

 slowly made my way down to the sand and took my stand 

 on the lower end of it. Just below began the next rapids, 

 over a rocky bar, and if the fish got over that I could not 

 hope to save them. As time passed I became more and 

 more anxious to secure them both. A double, and such a 

 double, was an event to talk about. In a little while the 

 big one began to show signs of exhaustion and 6lowly I 

 reeled in until I thought my line was short enough to 

 draw them upon the sand to the water's edge. Slowly 



swinging my rod around behind me to the left, the big fish 

 had reached the sand and his back was out of the water 

 when the rod stopped. I could swing it no further. 

 Taking my eyes from the fish for the first time I 

 glanced backward and discovered that the bend of 

 the rod was against the brush, but I also discovered 

 that the tip was within my reach. Holding the butt in 

 my left hand, I reached out with my right, caught the 

 line beyond the tip and in a moment my fish were drawn 

 up along the sand out of the Avater, and I was between 

 them and the river — I had saved them both. When I 

 reached home in the afternoon and they were dressed, 

 1 found the big one to weigh a trifle over three pounds, 

 and the small one a little less than one pound. In the 

 stoma ch'of the larger one there was a fish that must have 

 weighed, when alive, nearly a pound. The process of 

 digestion had already removed all the outside parts, the 

 skin and fins, leaving the surface as smooth and white as 

 though polished down with sandpaper. I could easily 

 understand then why his lordship was so fastidious after 

 his recent feast. He wanted no feathers and tinsel. 

 Nevertheless, a grasshopper enticed him. The Judge, 

 with his "fly" notions, Avould have had to leave him. No! 

 the Judge never would have gone in where he was. 



[I once caught a large trout at the same place that had 

 swallowed another trout, the tail of which was visible in 

 the swallower's mouth. Digestion had barely set in.] I 

 fished on quietly down the river and filled my creel as 

 full as it would hold. Caught one other fish of over 21bs. 

 weight, but most were from 10 to 18oz. each. 



The next day I went to Grand Lake and did some fish- 

 ing there. A few days after met the Judge at Cozens', 

 on the Fraser, and we returned together to Denver. He 

 had heard of my big trout, and was evidently a little 

 bit envious, I think, for this year he has placed me on his 

 list with the Professor who borrowed Ms new gun. 



Later this season Mrs. Barney Day caught in the Grand, 

 near the mouth of Troublesome, a 81b. trout, and her 

 little son, eight or nine years old, caught one of 24lbs. 



W. N. B. 



CAMP ADAMS.-II. 



THE days were spent with varying success visiting one 

 pool and another until Saturday night arrived, 

 when rods were put away, not to be taken up again 

 until Monday morning, Sunday being spent in reading, 

 loafing about camp and sleeping. 



Sunday morning, however, Armstrong and Ferguson 

 decided to leave for home, as they were unable to stay 

 away any longer from their business, and in consequence 

 the camp is earlier astir than usual. When breakfast is 

 over the buckboard is brought out, and after a hearty 

 "good-bye, boys," the two are off. Although somewhat 

 out of sorts at" having to leave so soon they continued on 

 their way as best they could until within about six miles 

 of Way's an accident occurred, for which neither will 

 take the blame, but each tries to make the other bear the 

 responsibility. Between them .be it. One of them who 

 was driving managed the horse so well that one shaft 

 tried to pass a tree on one side while the horse and wagon 

 were to take the other, a feat seldom accomplished. In 

 consequence the weaker member of the concern, off on 

 its own hook, suddenly parted company. A pretty fix. 

 Six miles to walk and help to guide and haul the buck- 

 board. Imagine the appearance they cut when Way's was 

 reached and the state of their tempers at hearing Adams's 

 hearty laugh at their quaint appearance. 



On Monday morning two or three days' provisions were 

 got ready, preparatory to a trip to the Forks, some eigh- 

 teen miles above the camp and the intervening pools en 

 route. Of the latter there are quite a number of excellent 

 ones, where good fishing can generally be had, fully re- 

 paying any one for the extra amount of fatigue encount- 

 ered, especially if he is made of the metal of true sports- 

 men. 



There being no Saratogas to pack, the things were soon 

 stowed in a dugout, and the horse hitched to it by means 

 of a hook in the whiffietree passing through an iron ring 

 in the bow. The men tumble in on top of the grub and 

 off they go. Where the water is shallow the horse is kept 

 so attached, but when it becomes too deep he is unhitched 

 and driven along the shore, and the men j>ole as the 

 motive power, causing sore backs and a few blisters until 

 they become accustomed to it, and then, like almost any- 

 thing else, they do not mind it. 



After the deep water is passed the horse is again 

 hitched on, and they continue their way up river until 

 a fishy -looking pool is reached. Then the horse is turned 

 loose and allowed to look after himself and graze along 

 shore, while the canoe skirts the edge of the pool, going 

 round it to get above, so as to make casting the fly an 

 easy matter. Here our friends kill two or three fine 

 fisli. 



The first night out they camp on the shores of the 

 Square Rock Pool, a short distance below the Forks of the 

 main North West River. 



After a good night's rest, as the midges and mosquitoes 

 were not very troublesome, they resume their journey. 

 This day was but a repetition of the previous one, so I will 

 not dwell upon its incidents. That same evening the 

 Forks are reached, where the party are to camp for the 

 night, at the foot of Bald Mountain and many other 

 peaks shooting far above the level of the surrounding 

 country. It is just above this mountain that the South 

 and North Forks uniting form the main river. 



On the South Fork, not far above the junction, there is 

 a fine salmon hole, known as the Devil's Gulch Pool, 

 while the same distance up the North Fork is the North 

 Branch Pool, so called, and at the junction is the Forks 

 Pool, the last two of which are wholly upon land owned 

 by Mr. Adams, at the base of Bald Mountain, comprising 

 some one hundred acres. He owns somewhere in the 

 neighborhood of a thousand acres at different points 

 along the river and containing within their boundaries, 

 with the exception of a few, nearly all the Al pools. 



After fishing the pools above mentioned they start the 

 next day on their return journey, reaching camp that 

 night, making the return trip in one day. 



The sun is hours high before there are any signs of life 

 around the camp the following morning, and not much 

 fishing is done as they are to leave for home on the mor- 

 row, after having spent nine days in the wildprness. 



In the afternoon they proceed to sum up their catch, 

 and on going to the smoke house count sixty sahnon 

 tails suspended on poles, which, together with the five 

 they ate fresh, makes a total of sixty-five. There is a 

 good smoke house alongside of the camp, as fishermen in 



