432 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Sept, q, 1911. 
elers .38 caliber 
REVOLVER AMMUNITION 
WINS BY A WIDE MARGIN and establishes a NEW WORLD’S 
RECORD at Camp Perry in the N. R. A. Matches. 
DR. J. H. SNOOK, OF COLUMBUS, O., SCORED 
477 OUT OF A POSSIBLE 500 
The greatest record ever made over the National Revolver Match Course. 
Dr. Snook also won the aggregate, score 3680 points out of a possible 4000, leading his nearest opponent by 55 points. 
THE PETERS CARTRIDGE COMPANY - - - CINCINNATI, OHIO 
New York: 98 Chambers Street. T. H. KELLER, Manager New Orleans: 321 Magazine Street. E. F. LECKERT, Manager 
San Francisco: 608-612 Howard Street. J. S. FRENCH, Manager 
FROM ROSSIGNOL TO TUSKET. 
Continued from page 411. 
pajamas, and crawled into the blankets, perhaps 
to shiver and shake for a minute or two, but 
presently to drift off into a dreamless slumber 
that could not be surpassed. 
Horace, who ministered to our gastronomic 
needs with such unvarying success, was very 
clean about his work and at once on making 
camp, while Charles was getting the fire started, 
he would get soap and a towel out of his kit 
and thoroughly wash hands and arms. Then 
with great energy, but with the precision born 
of long practice, he would start his campaign 
with the frying-pans and kettles. Our stock of 
provisions, while clearly within the limits of 
practicability, was sufficiently varied to permit of 
a choice of what we should eat, and Horace 
never failed to consult our wishes on the sub¬ 
ject, usually with some apt suggestion which 
generally met our unanimous approval. As we 
carried plenty of eggs, they formed the staple 
for breakfast, generally fried with a bit of 
bacon or a slice of ham, but sometimes delicious¬ 
ly cooked in other ways. These with fried pota¬ 
toes, farina, buckwheat cakes with maple syrup 
and tea, coffee or cocoa, furnished an ample 
lining to start the day on. Our luncheons were 
much more informal affairs, taken wherever we 
happened to be at noon time, and as a rule sup¬ 
plied from the gunnysack containing the canned 
stuff. But the important meal was supper, com¬ 
ing as it did after the trials and joys of the 
day were over, when we were best prepared to 
appreciate the result of Horace’s efforts. Trout 
we always had, fresh, well cooked after half a 
dozen different methods. Our enthusiasm for 
trout, as food only he it understood, waned, but 
this was not true of the guides. The bread, 
either in the form of cornmeal, Johnnie cake or 
white flour biscuits, was baked in the folding 
reflecting oven in front of a bed of coals. Pota¬ 
toes and onions were in steady demand. The 
meats included pork, bacon, ham, dried beef, 
corned beef and tongue, and among the canned 
provisions were soups, baked beans, peas, corn 
and tomatoes. The dietary list was completed 
by dried prunes, apricots and apples, by rice, 
raisins and a few other trifles. 
WITH A DRY-FLY IN NEW ZEALAND. 
In hot summer weather, when the sun shines 
scorchingly upon the dwindled stream, when 
the big trout lie out near the willows, black 
bars beneath the unruffled surface, their shadows 
stationary on the stones below—then is the op¬ 
portunity of the dry-fly man. The uninitiated 
speak of his doings in awestruck tones. “It 
was too bright for us, but X. caught a dozen 
beauties. Got ’em with dry-fly.” And probably 
the listener accepts this news with a convic¬ 
tion that the matter has now gone far beyond 
his power. The dry-fly is not such a dreadfully 
exclusive insect as we are sometimes led to be¬ 
lieve. We modify him a little to suit our south¬ 
ern streams, and having dispensed with the 
messy accessories of red deer fat and paraffin, 
we find that a few flicks in the air will dry 
feathers sufficiently for the purpose, and the 
famous lure becomes tractable in the hands of 
the average fisherman. 
Well known among Canterbury rivers, the 
Orari, as it approaches the sea, is particularly 
adapted to the uses of dry-fly. About Christ¬ 
mas time, when the spring freshes have become 
a part of the South Pacific, it is a succession of 
pools and ripples, here and there flowing 
through a gorse-grown, shingle waste, but near 
to the sea the Orari is shut in between culti¬ 
vated lands and banks guarded by willows, 
which give secure shelter to many lusty trout. 
The fishing is worthy a journey, and after a 
drive of twenty miles in the early hours of a 
traditional summer day, I left my horse in a 
grove by the lowest bridge, and turned up 
stream to explore. 
Early as the hour, the heat was something to 
remember, and scores of trout could be seen 
lying motionless in their own places under the 
boughs, or close to the shingle at the opposite 
edge. At rare intervals a fly came drifting 
down, and after running the gauntlet of several 
satisfied or sluggish fish, a dark form tilted 
slowly endways, the fly vanished, and a lessen¬ 
ing circle from the rise widened out over the 
glassy surface. 
Having tried unsuccessfully to obtain a stray 
fly for a guide to the pattern I should use, I 
tied on a Hackled Alder as a likely lure. It 
was the season of the brown beetle pest,and an 
alder bears some resemblance, so with that I 
proceeded to tempt the nearest fish. He was in 
a rather open place, but by bending low I came 
unnoticed within casting range, and he ac¬ 
cepted the Alder with a steady, trustful rise. 
Following a previously arranged plan, he was 
played hard down stream, and soon a 2-pounder 
was being put into the basket. 
A bigger fish lay half a chain above, in a 
little bay among the branches, and a moment 
later I managed to put the fly in front of him. 
To be correct, it fell a little on the outside of 
him, so that he had to turn after taking it; and 
feeling the hook, he continued the wheel, and 
before I could stop him had plunged heavily 
through a mass of sunken boughs. Then I got 
back what was left of the cast, and tried to feel 
thankful that matters were no worse, while 
tying on a fresh fly. A pretty stout cast can be 
used in this style of angling, as the idea is that 
the fish are not to see any of it; but in case of 
accident, a fine point about a foot or so long is 
tied at the end of the cast. Thus, if a smash 
should occur, the fisherman's loss of tackle is 
probably only a gut point and a single fly—that 
is the rule. 
Damages repaired, the next nine were landed 
largely from the half-mile of water up stream, 
and the basket strap beginning to cut into my 
shoulder, they were hidden under a bush, where 
they could be called for on the way back; a 
hint worth remembering is, never cover or pack 
trout with any of that hay-feverish smelling 
grass known as “sweet-scented vernal,” for it 
will taint and spoil a whole bagful within a few 
hours. 
