Dec. 29, 1906.] 
•FOREST AND STREAM. 
1023 
burning, coffee boiling, pancakes stirring and 
bacon frying. It was 'going to take a little 
time to get everything ready, so I asked the 
guest to go with me to the spring for a pail 
of water, and it was delightful to see his eyes 
snap as 1 drew a flask from a hollow log, and 
remarked upon the morning air being rather 
chilly. He tasted it and said it was “g-r-a-n-d.” 
and then asked why we kept it 'there. I told 
him it was just to have it handy, and he said 
it was a “g-r-a-n-d idea.” I have never seen 
another person who could put so much mean¬ 
ing into the word “grand.” It was his favorite 
way of expressing approval, and he used it 
not only continually, but pleasingly. 
The old man had insisted that some of his 
trout be cooked, and it was a great feast that 
four hearty men ate thqt morning under the 
beech tree, on the bank of the Esopus, just 
as the sun peeped over the mountain. 
After breakfast we showed him our tackle, 
and he told, us which of the flies were best 
suited to that locality, for although when he 
wanted trout he used whatever lure was most 
likely to get them, he was nevertheless an 
expert fly-fisherman. As we talked and smoked 
he described the streams for miles about; told 
us where the best holes were located, and 
the short-cuts over the mountains to them. 
There was not a brook, a path, or a ledge of 
rocks in all that region that he did not know. 
He told how the season before, while digging 
. gingseng on Cold Brook Mountain, he had 
almost stepped upon a pair of rattlesnakes so 
long that after he had killed them and hung 
them on a pole over his shoulder, the rattles 
dragged upon the ground and some were 
broken off before he reached the village. 
We had heard of his capture of the snakes 
before, for rattlers there have been for many 
years so scarce that when he appeared with 
these it created a widespread comment. How¬ 
ever, it was interesting to watch his excite¬ 
ment, as he described the start it gave him 
when he first discovered the coil-spring devils 
in his path. 
When the morning was well advanced, he 
said he must go, for he really ought to get 
his corn planted; but it was plain to us that 
there was very little of his heart in the corn 
planting project. We willingly agreed to go 
and visit him, and he struck out for home. 
The weather was too clear and bright for 
fishing, so, while Robert went to the village to 
get his boots tapped, Henry and I tinkered 
about the camp and played with the dogs. 
Lassie was fond of being petted, and acted 
jealously if any attention was paid to Terry, 
but he did not seem to mind that, for he was 
too much occupied in just being a puppy. 
They had gotten along together fairly well, 
when let loose, but we could see that there 
was yet a little restraint and indifference be¬ 
tween them. Henry was rolling Lassie on 
the ground, and having a general frolic with 
her, when Terry conceived the idea of taking a 
hand in the fracas, and commenced to gnaw 
her heavy coat. She resented this intrusion 
with a sharp snap, which on the spot started 
a good, brisk fight. Terry dropped his puppy 
ways instantly, and grabbed her by the back 
of the neck in a truly professional style, hang¬ 
ing on while she ran around the circle in front 
of the tents kiyi-ing bitterly. I had a small 
piece of board in my hands and started out to 
administer it, but the pace was so fast that I 
made the circuit twice before I got near 
enough, and then the first rap did not seem 
to attract Terry’s attention. Gathering up, I 
went after them again, and the' next blow was 
planted with plenty of intention back of it, so 
that the fight was adjourned. Both of them 
seemed to feel better for the encounter, and 
they soon became good friends. The inci¬ 
dent made us a little suspicious of the theory 
that male and female dogs never fight; but 
perhaps Terry was too young to have good 
manners. 
When Robert came back he brought a box 
which he had found awaiting 11s at the express 
office, and we pried into it in a hurry. It 
contained two new rifles which we had or¬ 
dered in advance of the deer season, purposely 
so that we could help the farmers get rid of 
the woodchucks, and do a little target prac¬ 
tice at camp. There were a good many car¬ 
tridges in the box with the guns, so that the 
load had been rather heavy, counting the dis¬ 
tance, and Robert began to make remarks 
about the “idea of bringing a whole arsenal 
into camp to be carried around.” Henry said, 
“Why didn’t you leave it for'the team to bring 
up?” But he need not have asked the ques¬ 
tion, for if there was anything short pf a ton 
and Robert was going to get his hands on the 
latest improved rifle by carrying it, that box 
was going to get carried. 
We set up a target and practiced for an hour 
or more, until satisfied with the arrangement 
of the sights and who was the best shot. Terry 
was wild with delight, and raced from one 
to the other, prancing about, and smelling of 
the empty shells, for he had early learned the 
voice of a gun by my shooting a sparrow for 
him. 
When we were through, Henry began to 
look for Lassie, and then it was recalled that 
she had not been seen since we commenced 
shooting. It took three hours to find her, and 
made our dinner late; but at length Henry 
discovered "her two miles above the camp, 
evidently started for home. We were never 
able to train her to like the sound of a gun, 
and tying her was always a preliminary to 
target practice. 
Frequently crows would light in the trees 
across the creek, and some one of us would 
go up stream a little distance, where we could 
get a clear view, and shoot at them. On such 
occasions it often happened that Lassie would 
be standing near the shooter, and at the re¬ 
port of the gun she would start to run away, 
while Terry would be as anxious to get to it, 
so that they would meet each other in fol¬ 
lowing their different inclinations. 
It clouded over in the afternoon, and we all 
went fishing, selecting different places. I Went 
downstream and found a bar which crossed 
the creek diagonally, forming a long, deep 
channel on its lower side, between itsel.f and 
the shore. There were shallow spots and 
boulders enough on the bar so that I worked 
out on it nearly to the head of the channel. 
I tried first near at hand, but had no luck, al¬ 
though the redfins were about as smart a lot 
as I ever came across, and often they would 
get the flies, and give an excellent representa¬ 
tion of a trout. 
After I was satisfied that the redfins had the 
ground to themselves, I let out more line and 
put some flies across the channel and under 
the bank. T.he first and second casts brought 
no response, but at the third a California rain-, 
bow came out as though he meant business. I 
was a little too quick for him, and he missed, 
for my rod was new and T had not become ac¬ 
quainted with it yet. Old rods are like old 
friends, and you know better what to expect 
of them. I tried once more, and between my 
being a little slower, and his coming a little 
harder, we managed it all right, and he went 
off down the channel, taking with him as much 
good new line as he liked, for I had plenty of 
it, and did not wish to be stingy, particularly 
in that current. Something about the arrange¬ 
ment did not suit him, for when he had about 
a hundred feet of start, he came out of the 
water with a rush and make a good sidewise 
jump. I had a fair view of him, and thought 
to myself “about one foot.” He went per¬ 
haps ten yards further down, and contented 
himself with going back and forth across the 
run, jumping into the air at each turn. After a 
time he got tired of it and sulked, but his 
kind do not last as long as the German brown, 
so he gave up and came in. 
I got another of the same kind and size a 
few feet below where the first one had struck, 
and it seemed to be all there were there. Then 
I worked about half way down the bar and 
made several casts as far as I could toward 
the bank, but nothing came of them until I 
changed flies. After that the first cast brought 
results. .The line started off yanking and 
snapping, and the reel sung. I got my wits 
together and began to plan a campaign. My 
confidence in the supply of line vanished 
rapidly, and 1 wished 1 had all there was in 
camp. Pie was fifty yards downstream before 
I could think, and then went straight out of 
the water a good two feet. My eyes bulged, 
for he looked nearer the size of a codfish than 
any trout I had ever seen. He started up over 
the bar with the line threading among the 
boulders. When almost to the top he turned 
and went back into'the channel, swimming up¬ 
stream faster than I could reel in, so that the 
line slackened. The hook seemed to be pretty 
well bedded, and when I got taut on him again 
he was trying the head of the rift. He made 
that, and circling about above the bar, came 
down again across the lower part of it. I saw 
him frequentl}’ during this trip, and each time 
he seemed larger. In fact-, 1 was surprised at 
the smallness of my first impression. He took 
a resting spell and I worked down toward him. 
About a hundred yards below, the whole 
creek broke into a long wide rift, which ex¬ 
pended as far as I could see. When the trout 
started again it was for this rift, and 1 fought 
as much as the tackle would stand, but he 
forged steadily ahead, and was almost to the 
brink before he stopped. Then he took two 
or three turns back and forth across stream, 
and I began to have hopes of getting him. 
Just as he seemed weakening, he made one 
more lunge, whipping around a rock into the 
swift water, and my line fell limp. 
A sickening sensation went through me, and 
as I slowly turned -the reel, the line came 
sneaking in like a whipped cur. 
It was supper time, and as I wearily dragged 
myself back to camp, I meditated much upon 
the incident. If only I had that trout to show 
to the others, how much better idea they could 
get of its size. Clearly it was my duty to de¬ 
scribe him as accurately as possible. I deter¬ 
mined that at least they should not be deprived 
of that pleasure, little as it was. But how to 
picture him, ^vhat to compare him to, that 
was the question. I was at the table before I 
thought of a fitting object to give a clear idea 
of his dimensions. I explained the circum¬ 
stances as well as I could, giving all the- de¬ 
tails, and they listened in breathless astonish¬ 
ment, as I told them that in length, breadth 
and thickness he was about the size of a rail¬ 
road tie. 
After a minute Robert asked, ‘‘Did he bark 
or anything?” 
The catch had been more than was needed 
at camp, so we went to Mr. Chatman’s house 
and divided with the family. One could see 
the appetite that goes with mountain air, and 
outdoor life when he watched the eyes that 
followed each fish, as Robert took the trout 
one at a time from the basket and stretched 
them side by side in the pan which Mrs. 
Chatman brought. 
“We'all like fish here,” she said, “but we 
haven’t had any in most two years, for my 
husband never gets time to catch a mess, 
although we have all kinds of game, from 
quail to bear's meat. Men are dreadfully set 
in their habits,” she continued; “he’s got the 
hunting habit so strong he can’t change to 
fishing. It’s a good deal like an old.gander 
my father used to have, that got so in the 
habit of fighting everybody that he couldn’t 
stop when he wanted to. We put u-p a straw 
man for a scarecrow in the cornfield, and the 
old goose went at it and most worked him¬ 
self to death before he found out it wasn’t 
alive.” 
Mr. Chatman replied that he did not like to 
see people whiffling about all the time. He 
said, “If one’s strong point is woodchucks, I 
believe in sticking to woodchucks.” 
We visited with the family until quite late, 
so that it was dark going back through the 
.woods, but we could not lose the path, for it 
was hedged on either side by thick under¬ 
growth. The trail was so narrow that we had 
to go Indian file, and even then the new-born 
leaves of the saplings slapped our faces as 
we trod noiselessly over the carpeting of moss 
and pine needles. 
’Winfield T. Sherwood, 
[to be continued.] 
