316 
FOREST AND STREAM 
[Aug. 19, 1911. 
WINS AT THE 
Western Handicap Toumameivt 
Omaha, Nebraska—August 8-9-10,1911 
THE WESTERN HANDICAP EVENT 
— WON BY — 
WILLIAM RIDLEY shooting DU PONT 
with a score of 98 x 100 from the 19 yard mark. 
Mr. C. C. Collins, shooting Ballistite, tied with Mr. Ridley, but 
lost out in the shoot-off. 
High Amateur Averages on the 16-yard targets 
Porter White .392 x 400 Shooting Ballistite 
Jesse Young .391 x 400 Shooting D11 Pont 
Riley Thompson .390 x 400 Shooting Schultze 
High Scores on Doubles 
W. R. Crosby . 47 x 50 Shooting Schultze 
Jesse Young . 45 x 50 Shooting Du Pont 
L. S. German . 45 x 50 Shooting Du Pont 
Fred Gilbert . 45 x 50 Shooting Du Pont 
Long Runs During Tournament 
Porter White .170 Shooting Ballistite 
Joe Kautzky .180 Shooting Schultze 
Jay Graham .154 and 112 Shooting Du Pont 
W. H. Clay.170 and 107 Shooting Du Pont 
C. G. Gellatly .no Shooting Schultze 
Wm. Ridley .127 Shooting Du Pont 
A. C. Connor .132 Shooting Du Pont 
L. S. German 106 Shooting Du Pont 
J. S. Day .146 Shooting Ballistite 
Fred Bills .104 Shooting Du Pont 
We will send a “No Place for a Frog” picture, lithographed in 15 colors, son receipt'of the 
fronts from 4 loaded shell paper cartons showing that the shells have been loadedjwith any brand of 
Du Pont Shotgun Smokeless Powder. 
Infallible—Ballistite—New Schultze—New E. C.—Du Pont—and Empire 
Send the carton fronts to Advertising Division Desk No. 3 , Du Pont Building, Wilmington, Del. 
E. I. DU PONT DE NEMOURS POWDER COMPANY 
established 1802 Wilmington, Del. 
A Classic for Sportsmen 
AMERICAN BIG GAME IN ITS HAUNTS 
—1 Boone and Crockett Club Series - 
Edited by GEORGE BIRD GRINNELL 
An invaluable work not alone for the sportsman, but for the student and lover 
of wild life. Treats of big game preservation and protection in the broader sense; 
tells of the habits, habitat and life history of the larger wild animals; touches upon 
the problem of the public forest domain, and is rounded out by interesting hunting 
reminiscences by such leaders in the fraternity of big-game hunters as Madison 
Grant, Paul J. Dashiell, George Bird Grinned, Jas. H. Kidder and W. Lord Smith. 
Bound in cloth, library edition, heavy paper, richly illustrated, 497 pages. 
Postpaid, $2.50 
FOREST AND STREAM PUBLISHING CO., 127 Franklin Street, NEW YORK CITY 
A TWICE-HOOKED FISH. 
September had been cloudless; the land was 
as dry as the Sahara, and the river, part of 
which was mine for the season, was so low all 
through the month that if any salmon had been 
up they would have had their backs sunburnt. 
But, with the exception of two or three potted 
fish as red as soldiers, the river from source to 
mouth was as innocent of fish as a turnpike 
road. October began in like manner, and it 
seemed as if the rods would have to be put 
away for the winter without bending to an¬ 
other salmon. But all things, including drouths, 
have their appointed end, and before the first 
three days of October were out the heavens 
were opened; every road was a watercourse, 
every rivulet a torrent; gravel strands that had 
been bare lor weeks were covered with a rag¬ 
ing red flood roaring bank-high to the sea; 
the gauge on the old stone bridge, which had 
been showing 18 inches below zero, now marked 
15 feet of water. 
One pictured the shoals of fish in the estu¬ 
ary, immediately on the move as the first of the 
water came down, running in with the first tide 
as far as it served, and then leaving the salt 
water to press on toward the upper reaches. 
Multitudes there must have been, the accumu¬ 
lation of weeks, not in the pink of condition, it 
is true, but still capable, fresh from the sea, of 
putting up a gallant fight. Too much water, 
however, is as bad from the fisherman’s point 
of view as too little. A yellow flood is as hope¬ 
less as a gravel path, and it began to look as 
if the spate would see the season out. But on 
the 9th it began to run down, and by the eve¬ 
ning of the next day the water was compara¬ 
tively clear, and, though very high, was fishable 
here and there. 
So the 18-foot rod was taken out, and a be¬ 
ginning made at a high-water catch near the 
top of my beat. A long, curving rapid above 
ends here in a sharp turn, and to save the bank 
great concrete slabs have been built up from 
the bottom, forming a wall, of which the top, 
5 or 6 feet above the water, is level with the 
bank. Along the wall the stream runs strong 
and deep, breaking almost at right angles round 
its end, and forming a veritable maelstrom of 
an eddy. Below this, again, is a long wide 
pool, fringed on my side with alders 12 or 14 
feet high. Opposite the wall is a sloping gravel 
bank, and on this out of the heaviest of the 
stream, lie the fish, resting before tackling the 
long rapid above. A long cast is needed, for 
the higher the water the farther up the gravel 
lie the fish; but casting from the wall is easy, 
and all is plain sailing till a fish is hooked. 
Then several things may happen. He may go 
straight down and foul the line in a huge water¬ 
logged submerged branch which is jammed in 
a rocky cleft on the far side of the eddy, or he 
may go sharp round the end of the wall in his 
first run and cut the cast against the rough 
corner. 
But fishermen of all people must not meet 
sorrow halfway. The first thing is to get into 
the fish, and trust to Providence for the rest; 
and so on this boisterous October evening I set 
to work to cover the gravel bank opposite with 
a big Durham-ranger. The 18-foot rod sent out 
thirty-odd yards of line without any effort. The 
fly, pitched well over and worked by the rod 
point, came across the stream in short jerks up 
and back. The current brought it right against 
the wall, and some care was necessary to avoid 
letting the point touch the stones when lifting 
it out. Ten yards were covered without results, 
and then came the slightest of checks when the 
fly was halfway across. The point was raised, 
hut there was no answering strain. It might 
have been a piece of driftwood crossing the 
line, or—it might have been a fish. 
I waited a minute, and then sent out the fly 
on the same cast as before. Just in the same 
place came the same check, but this time there 
was no mistake when the point went up. The 
reel screamed as the fish tore down and across 
straight for the sunken tree. However, there 
is no stopping a fish in his first run in a strong 
