426 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 17, Ml, 
"Ttiat reminds me." 
Active Pelts. 
"Hank" Hallstead had the name at Nicholson, where 
he lived, of being "as sweet as his brother Bill," who now 
manage the D., L. & W. R R., at a salary greater than 
that 01 the President of the United State's. Henry was 
keeping a village store there about 1870, and like most 
country stores then, the establishment took peltry and 
game, as well as butter, eggs, etc., in the way of trade. 
"Bog" Pickering, in coonskin cap and homespun came 
down to town one day for a supply of shorts, tobacco, 
powder, caps, etc., and rubbing his hand over a fox skin 
that lay on Henry's counter, drawled out: "That's a fine 
pelt, Hank; what did ye give for it?" 
"Twelve shillings in trade." Then after a few minutes, 
"Have you got some fox skins, Bog?'' 
"Ya-as." 
"How many?" 
"I b'leve there's five up there now." 
"Nice ones?" 
"Yes, two big ones and three littler ones." This time it 
was Bog who resumed the talk. "Do you want them 
skins, Hank? What'll you give fer 'em?" 
"Well, if they're not too small they ought to be worth 
a dollar in trade." 
"Well, Hank, two of 'em is bigger than this one here, 
and if you want to take the lot, big and little, just as they 
run, at ten shillin' apiece, you can have 'em and let me 
have some trade on 'em to-day?" 
"All right, Bog." 
A month later. "Bog, did you bringdown them fox 
skins?" 
"What fox skins?" 
"Don't you remember I bought five of you?" 
' 'Ya-as, so you did. I said they was five of them, didn't 
I?' 
"Yes." 
"And you paid me a dollar and a quarter fer 'em, big 
and little, just as they run, didn't you?" 
"Yes." 
"Well, they're runnin' yet, for all I know, and if you 
want to be sure of 'em you'd better go up and shoot 'em, 
or git some one to do it fer you, 'cause I've seen some 
other chaps up there with guns. I want to see you git 'em 
so you can pay me the other twenty shillin's." 
Hank said the $3.75 did not matter so much — part of it 
was profits, anyway, but it cost near $10 to set 'em up 
properly for the boys, before he heard the last of it. 
Capotjse. 
TAKING SALMON WITH A SPOON. 
SeattJjE, Wash., Oct. 29.— I have had another salmon 
experience to-day, which is a puzzler for me. About 
noon I went down to Lake Union to try for trout, which 
are abundant and of good average size. Salmon roe is 
about the only bait used here and about the only thing 
they will take at this season. Being unsuccessful in coax- 
ing any lake trout out I got in the boat and went to the 
portage between this lake and. Lake Washington to try 
for salmon trout (so-called), which are now running in 
from the salt water through Lake Union and into Lake 
Washington by way of the logging canal cut through the 
portage. Arriving at this canal I found three boats troll- 
ing, as I supposed, for lake trout. Imagine my surprise 
on seeing a fish about 3ft. L long being pulled in over the 
side of one of these boats. That I knew was no trout, so 
I rowed over to investigate. I found five salmon in this 
boat and two more in another. I examined the tackle 
used and found it was a small nickeled spoon uspd with- 
out any bait or feathered hook, just a plain Kirby 5-0 
hook and 60ft. of heavy cotton line and no sinker. 
I abandoned the trout proposition and dug up a similar 
spoon from my outfit, tied it on my silk trout line, ran 
out about 60ft. and let the 6oz. lancewood rod do the rest. 
In a few minutes I got a strike and lost my fish, then got 
another and landed a small one. In a little while after 
I got another fish weighing about 4jlbs., which fought as 
gamely as any salmon does in salt water. 
They were jumping all around me in every direction, as 
is usual with a school of salmon in salt water. I opened 
and examined the stomachs of eight individuals caught 
in this lake to-day with a spoon, and in every case the 
digestive organs, intestines, etc., were in a shriveled, 
shrunken state, and entirely empty. I examined both 
males and females, both ripe for spawning, and found 
exactly the same state of affairs in regard to the digestive 
organs. 
I had several strikes on a "spinner" cut from a chub 
belly, but did not land any of my fish, as my hooks were 
too light, being only small trout hooks, and in every case 
were torn out before I could get my fish. These were the 
same fish that were taking the spoon, as I could see them 
in two or three cases very plainly. The gentleman who 
had the five informed me that he had only caught one 
salmon in this lake before this season, and had taken that 
on a fly. This season he has caught quite a number with 
a spoon. Several other fishermen with whom I have 
talked on the subject say they never knew it to happen 
on this coast before, and were much surprised that they 
would take anything at all in fresh water. It seems to be 
a common belief beyond dispute here that salmon will not 
bite anything after entering fresh water, yet I find them 
taking a small spoon and a spinner readily, even greedily, 
in Lake Union, five miles from salt water, to-day. 
Can some of the fishermen of Forest and Stream 
throw any light on the subject? Why were they taking a 
spoon? Why did they not take some of the thousands of 
chub minnows in the lake instead of striking a "spinner"? 
Why should they strike at anything when the stomach 
showed conclusively that they were not feeding? Maybe 
these things be past "any feller's findin' out." 
The salmon I should judge were identical with the 
"jack salmon," of the sound, and of those seen three 
would weigh about 7 or 81bs. each, two about 4 to 51bs. 
and the rest from 2 to 41bs. I saw jumping many which 
appeared much larger; I think they would weigh about 
10 or 121bs., but none of these were caught. Perhaps they 
were silver salmon; I could not identify them in the brief 
circle they made out of water. Those caught were mud- 
dier colored than those in salt water, lacked the silvery 
gleam of scales and were of a reddish color all over. This 
I think is due to their being in fresh water instead of salt 
and am informed that it does not detract from their table 
qualities in the least, and they are apparently healthy. 
The ones that I caught I examined closely and could find 
no indications of inflammation about them in any way. 
The color seemed to be in the skin the same as in any 
other fish and the whole color of the body conformed so 
closely to the color of the lake water that they were hard 
to see until very close to the boat. This may be only another 
instance of the changeable quality of the color of a fish's 
skin, which readily adapts itself to the general color of 
the water and surroundings, j ust the same as the tree toad 
colors himself to conform with the leaf or bark he rests 
on, or it may be due to "change of climate," or rather 
water, from salt to fresh, which may cause an irritation 
producing redness of the skin. At any rate the fish are 
red, whatever the cause may be. 
For the last three years I have heard of a "red trout" 
which ascends a certain stream flowing into Lake Wash- 
ington at about this time of the year in multitudes. 
They will not bite in the stream, but are caught with 
grabhooks and are so plentiful that I know of one catch 
of sixty dozen taken in this way in a single day by one 
man, and yesterday a young man just returned from 
there told me that he "caught a butter firkin full in two 
hours." 
As near as I can find out these are the same fish which 
I caught to-day in Lake Union, but are the smaller size, 
from 1 to 2ilbs., and their more slender form and general 
make-up looks more like a trout than a salmon; however, 
this is only my opinion, as I have never had an opportun- 
ity of seeing one of them yet, because I have never been 
to the creek in question. The first one I see I shall ex- 
amine closely, and if they are not the same fish I will 
make a water color drawing of them and send it in for 
identification. Leaving this piscatorial lore to those bet- 
ter versed on the subject for dissection I will pause to 
state that I'm going to tackle 'em again in the near 
future. El Comancho. 
RAINBOW TROUT IN THE SOUTH. 
Florence, S. C, Nov. 3.— Editor Forest and Stream: 
In your issue of Oct. 27, your correspondent, A. S. New- 
berry, of Cleveland, O., seems to have made a very long 
journey just to find that the rainbow trout is not what it 
has been "cracked up" to be, and has come to the con- 
clusion that they are inferior to the Salmo fontinalis in 
game qualities. I would hint that trout of all kinds vary 
much in their habits, coloring, etc., according to the 
kind of waters they are found in, and more especially the 
season in which one fishes for them. 
If Mr. Newberry had taken a much shorter journey 
into the mountain region of western North Carolina, and 
had hunted up the Culusagee River in the month of June 
(before the water gets too warm), he would have found 
thousands of rainbow trout, of which I will buck any 
8-inch specimen against the be3t 10-inch speckled trout 
that ever was spawned. 
To find this trout in perfection, it is necessary to seek 
streams high up in the mountains, abounding in rough 
rocky bottoms, rushing cascades, and little or no dull 
sluggish pools or ponds. I agree with Mr. Newberry, 
that when found in ponds they are much inferior to the- 
fontinalis, pound for pound. I have been fishing for 
nearly a quarter of a century in many lands, but have yet 
failed to find any trout that will out-match the rainbow 
for game qualities, provided the environments are as 
stated. The dash with which they take the fly, the thrill- 
ing way in which they leap from the water — not once 
but repeatedly; and the long stubborn fight which they 
make, in fact- till they are stone dead, cannot, in my 
estimation, be bettered by the trout family. 
I would, however, sound a warning note to those who 
love the native brook trout better, but may be tempted to 
plant rainbow trout among them as an experiment. Let 
them forbear. Close observation on the Culusagee River 
proves that as the rainbows increase in size thenative fish 
decrease in number. In this stream seven years ago it 
was no trouble to kill a creelfulof the beautiful fontinalis 
in a few hours, but every year since they have been grad- 
ually getting scarce and more scarce, until this past sum- 
mer the creel would not contain 10 per cent, of this species. 
I cannot assign any other reason for this than that the 
rainbows, being a fiercer, more voracious and much more 
active fish, are steadily cleaning them out by preying on 
them. 
My outing for trout this summer has been over for some 
time, but it had been so uneventful that I have foreborne 
to annoy your readers with the same old story of fine 
catches, monsters lost, etc. The season has been one of the 
driest that I have ever experienced in the mountains, and 
as long as I remained the streams, except in a sudden 
freshet, never came within a foot and a half of the good 
fishing condition. In fact, during June the streams were 
so low that I found no difficulty in wading entirely 
through pools that no man ever waded before. Of course 
this was against good fishing, but yet it gave me access to 
many points where hoary-headed old veterans had been 
hiding away for years in security. 
I am sorry to say that one of the finest streams in these 
mountains, the Horse Pasture, has been almost ruined 
as a trout stream, by the operations of the Georgetown 
Gold Mining Co., who have reopened some aucient 
workings and are searching for the main lead with 8in. 
hose. This has sent tons of mud and sand down stream 
and ruined the lurking places of the speckled owners of 
the stream. I don't wish the company any bad luck, but 
I do hope they may discover that the lead, is in some far 
distant part of the State, and that their labors may be re- 
warded by their finding it. 
I fished this year, for the first time, the Chatooga River 
(the head waters of the Suhannah), near where it takes its 
rise under the frowning 2,000ft. precipice of Whiteside 
Mountain. I found some good sport here, with the fish 
rather larger and more plentiful than in surrounding 
streams. This is largely owning to the protection ex- 
tended to them by the owner of the land, Mr. Tom Grim- 
shaw. One of the most delightful features of that trip 
was the pleasure derived from being domiciled with Mr. 
Grimshaw's family. It is quite a surprise to the weary 
angler, thirty-five miles from the nearest railroad, and 
isolated from civilization, to stumble on this most beauti- 
ful place and meet such people. Mr. Grimshaw is the son 
of an Englishman who settled here seventeen years ago, 
bringing with him all his English manners, tastes, family 
relics, paintings, books, etc., and even after so many 
years retaining them intact. To those of your readers 
who have had the pleasure of accepting an invitation to 
an English house party at an old country seat, the sur- 
roundings of this home and family would be very familiar. 
Mr. Grimshaw i3 a good angler and very fond of show- 
ing his guests where the best fishing is to be had. On this 
stream I had the pleasure of having, for the first time in 
this country, as a fishing companion, a lady who was not 
afraid to wet her feet when in pursuit of trout. But she 
hailed from the mother country. 
Apropos of wading, I had made for myself this sum- 
mer a pair of wading shoes to wear over the stocking 
feet of my mackintosh waders. They worked to a charm, 
and as we as a class are not jealous or niggardly, I give 
a description to my brother anglers. They are very 
simple, being nothing but a double-soled sandal with 
low heel, filled from end to end with hob-nails. A toe- 
cap of canvas extending to the ball of the great toe and a 
counter at the heel extending well up on the ankle and 
fastened by a thong passed through single eyelets on the 
two luers, constitutes the whole thing. The advantages I 
found in them were lightness for carrying when one has 
a ten miles tramp to or from the fishing grounds, . being 
open to the sole on each side, sand and pebbles were not 
retained in them to grind out the waders. In having 
them made I took the precaution of having the hob-nails 
driven into the outer sole before it was sewed on so as 
to prevent a stray point finding its way through ray 
waders. 
The hunting season is now on us down here, and quail 
and deer are reported plentiful, but I don't shoot. 
W. M. Brown. 
TROUT IN COLORADO STREAMS. 
Mr, A. S. Newberry writes in Forest and Stream, 
under date of Oct. 27, concerning what he calls "rainbow 
trout," caught by him in certain Colorado waters. Mr. 
Newberry is, I judge from his interesting article, "a 
stranger within the gates," hence I extend my hand to 
him and beg leave to correct his impression concerning 
the trout of Eagle River and the Yampa. From the de- 
scription given by him of the trout taken in the Eagle, I 
conclude they must have been one of our native varieties 
of mountain trout. We have five at least. I think — in 
fact I am quite certain — that the rainbow has never been 
planted either in the Eagle or the Yampa; his description 
does not tally at all with the rainbow, but does answer 
for the lighter variety of our natives. The Eagle empties 
into the Grand River, and I am familiar with the waters 
of the last named stream, which I have fished above the 
confluence every summer for the past twenty years. I 
have never seen or heard of a rainbow in the Grand, into 
which stream they certainly would have found their way 
from the Eagle, had the latter stream contained them. 
There are a number of canons on the Yampa, and I do 
not, of course, know to which caiion he refers when he 
writes that he "camped in the Canon of the Bear." 
Yampa is the Indian name for this stream, and I have a 
weakness for the Indian names; they are much more 
beautiful in sound and are quite as appropriate, if not 
more pertinent, than the nam^s usually bestowed by the 
so-called civilized white man. But the Yampa, from its 
headwaters in the Main Range and the Roan Range to the 
vicinity of Steamboat Springs (the distance being about 
fifty miles) affords many still reaches, pools and riffles 
that are a delight to the angler. This stream is one of the 
homes also of the Rocky Mountain whitefish, a sturdy 
fighter, who rises readily to the fly and is very toothsome 
withal. I wondef that he did not kill some of them. The 
Yampa has several smaller tributaries betweon the head- 
waters and the Springs. One of the most delightful in 
name and piscatorial wealth is Walton Creek, emptying 
into the Yampa some two miles above Steamboat. I have' 
caught many a pound and two-pound trout in Walton 
Creek; its banks are bush-lined, its current not too rapid 
for comfort, and its waters rarely too deep to wade. I 
commend it to my brother with that love which attends 
the recollection of delightful hours spent in the wilder- 
ness. Should he ever again cross the Gore Range or find 
himself on the Yampa, he should not fail to visit Walton 
Creek. 
A 4oz. trout in the Eagle, however, would have served 
for bait only, in the olden time. Before the railroad was 
built down this ideal trout stream I passed many a day of 
pleasure along its banks and on its riffles. Four and 51bs. 
native trout were common then, and 1, 2 and 31bs, fish 
made up the sum of a few hours' catch. Permit me to 
quote from a little story written and published ten years 
ago of a forenoon's experience on the Eagle: "Going 
down stream about a quarter of a mile, I saw a huge 
boulder imbedded in the bank, with a great mass of drift 
piled upon and against the upper side; out in front, a few 
yards up stream, several other boulders just out of the 
water, with the swift current rushing between them to 
become a little quiet below for three or four rods. By the 
side of the big boulder was a narrow, sandy beach from 
which I could step into a niche, and thence to the top. If 
I had had the designing of it, I could not have arranged 
it better. There were a few willows growing on the bank, 
but when I was on the top of the rock they were out of 
the way. I stepped upon the big boulder and dropped 
the brown-hen almost at its base. A trout thex*e advised 
me that he was looking for something of the kind, and 
came out on the beach shortly after never to go back. 
Each time I lengthened the line a little and reached out 
for undisturbed waters, and each time with success, 
