530 
FOREST AND STREAM 
April 27, 1912 
lower end of the pool, and taking off the stretcher 
fly, replaced it with a small floater. I did not 
bother to remove the dropper, which happened to 
be a favorite fly of my own tying. Changing the 
tail fly occupied a few minutes and in approach¬ 
ing the fish I naturally kept the flies in the air 
by a series of false casts. These dried the 
dropper so much that it floated quite as well as 
the orthodox dry fly, and the result was that 
all three trout rose at it and were killed one 
after another. It seemed that they moved out 
of position to get it, and passed by the tail fly. 
This was an eye opener. It showed that a good 
wet fly pattern, if properly dressed with sufficient 
hackle, was also a good dry fly pattern, and that 
my own flies could be made to float well. This 
gave me a great start and added interest to the 
floating fly. It is an interesting, indeed, fasci¬ 
nating method of fishing, and many good fisher¬ 
men practice it. But do not forget your old les¬ 
sons and the experience you have had in wet-fly 
fishing. If you have fished up stream on a low. 
A RECENT business trip took me thirty-five 
miles east of Pryor, Okla., over into the 
hills on the head of Little Saline. 
We got away on a Tuesday morning at 8 o’clock, 
and though our - rig was small, we managed to 
get our stuff into and on it. We had fqod for 
only three days, as that was all the time they 
would allow my companion out of the store; one 
day to go, one day to hunt and fish and one day 
to return. The bale of hay almost filled up the 
rear end of the rig and did with the grub box. 
We tied our bedding on top, laid overcoats and 
a small tent, my shooting coat and a frying-pan 
on top of all this. It was my duty to watch 
these several articles. However, they did not 
need much attention, so most of my time was 
given to keeping my seat, as we would dip down 
into a deep mud hole on one side and then on 
the other, or one of the horses would drop down 
half out of sight and the other would almost 
crawl on top of him before he could regain his 
feet. 
About two miles out we were struggling 
through the worst section of road encountered 
thus far when our double tree snapped, almost 
jerking the driver out on his head in that deep 
mud. Fortunately the horses stopped at the word 
and two trusty turkey hunters crawled or slid 
out into the mud. We knew a good farmer 
friend hard by who had a well equipped black¬ 
smith shop, so we hiked over and he very kindly 
came to our aid with a big heavy double tree 
and not only loaned it to us, but put it on and 
hitched up our team, he and his son. They had 
on rubber boots, so the mud made no difference 
with them. Well, we lost an hour there. 
The next mile I walked to lighten the load. 
The team had to be rested every few hundred 
yards, so deep and heavy was the mud, and at 
times we had to take an axe and chop it off the 
wheels and from between the spokes so the 
wheels could revolve. About 12 o’clock we ar- 
clear water with a single fly, or even two, you 
have practically put in practice about all you 
will require in dry-fly fishing, except guarding 
against the drag. You have not dried and floated 
your fly, otherwise the difference in method is 
not extraordinary. No great revolution in fish¬ 
ing. Even the man who fishes worm up stream 
in low water has to keep out of sight, present 
his bait skillfully, and use all his knowledge of 
the habits of the trout. Stalking trout is not con¬ 
fined to dry-fly fishing. 
The most interesting conditions for the float¬ 
ing fly are present when there is a good birth 
of natural insects — ephemeridse or caddis flies, 
for instance, when the attention of the better 
class of trout has been attracted to the surface 
and they are rising freely. Then all your skill 
will be required in selecting your fly, and in pre¬ 
senting it dry, floating and cocked, to each good 
trout in such a way that he will accept it in per- 
feet confidence, instead of one of the naturals at 
which he has risen but a moment before. 
rived at the ferry on the river, eight miles from 
town. Here our troubles, so far as bad roads 
were concerned, ended. Those roads on the 
other side of the Grand River are fine. The 
first crossing on the Saline is about two and a 
half miles from Salina. The water came nearly 
up to the bed of our rig and was just right for 
casting, but I did not have time to try it. It 
is a pretty stream, but is too clear for bait cast¬ 
ing, I am afraid. A fish can see you before you 
get within a quarter of a mile of the stream. It 
is just like looking out of the window into the 
street. The bass are there, however; small- 
mouth. After we had eaten our lunch we walked 
up stream and looked at this beautiful bit of 
water. It was on a two-foot rise then, but al¬ 
most perfectly clear. This almost caused a 
tragedy a few days later. On our return we 
looked at it and it was up then so we did not 
attempt to cross it. but went down the river ten 
miles and crossed the Chouteau bridge. After we 
left it (coming home) we met some railway men 
and they asked us how about it, and we told 
them to stay out of it, that we had measured it, 
and that it was at least ten feet deep right in 
the ford, but those men promptly drove right 
into it when they got there, and it just as prompt¬ 
ly drowned their team, and almost got them, had 
not a fellow there at the time come to their 
help. 
Well, to get back to the trip out. We swam 
through our last mud hole about a quarter of 
a mile from Saline, and from there on had pretty 
good roads. Perhaps it was for this very seduc¬ 
tive reason that I forgot to watch the loose coats 
and tent on the rear of our rig, but anyhow I 
forgot them, and they, seeing this, quietly slipped 
off one at a time so as not to attract attention, 
and we were many miles away before we noticed 
our loss. I was all eyes for the beautiful scenery 
and the beautiful stream, but the loss of these 
various articles brought me to earth with a jar.' 
We retraced our way for several miles, but found 
nothing but my .shooting coat and the tent poles, 
and one of them was broken. My friend Bur¬ 
gess once lived in that country and knew every 
Indian by name, and so we told them about it, 
and they very kindly loaned us a frying-pan and 
we figured that we could make my big wagon 
sheet do for a tent if it came to the worst (and 
it did). Jim Black Fox loaned us a skillet. 
About dark we arrived at our camping ground, 
a deep ravine with clear, tumbling spring water 
murmuring down it, which quietly sank into the 
gravelly bed and disappeared altogether within 
300 yards. There is a peculiar thing about those 
streams over there, and this trick of the water 
sinking into the gravelly beds of the many hol¬ 
lows causes it. During rains, no matter how 
heavy, almost all the water sinks into the earth 
and follows this bed of gravel, coming out into 
the stream in the form of springs, and as it 
takes about three days for it to reach the 
streams, they rise very quickly when the sur¬ 
face water reaches them and as quickly run 
down. After about three days they begin to get 
this water that has soaked into the earth and 
begin to rise again, and they always get much 
higher on this second rise than they do on the 
first and stay up longer, and the water is as clear 
as crystal, and that is why it is so dangerous to 
try to drive across it unless you are acquainted 
with the stream. 
We slept under the stars that first night, and 
with those ancient forest trees and hills keeping 
guard over us, our sleep was peaceful and sweet 
indeed after our trying day. At five o’clock we 
were up and away to the hills for turkeys. We 
heard a hen turkey yelping over across a deep 
ravine, but some hounds running a deer scared 
her bunch, and we did not get a shot. Further 
on up in the hills we saw one, but he saw us 
at the same time and flew. They rise very fast 
and usually fly at once upon seeing a hunter. 
We did some scouting for squirrels that after¬ 
noon until about four o’clock, then put up the 
wagon sheet and made it into a snug tent with 
an old quilt across one end, and none too soon 
either, for it commenced raining as soon as we 
got everything in and our bed of leaves made 
up. We had a great heap of logs burning, and 
though the rain poured in torrents, the fire 
burned as though nothing was happening. All 
we could do was to lie in the tent and smoke, 
and this we did until our tongues were raw. All 
the rest of the day, all that night and all next day 
it poured, but we were out of horse feed and had 
to get somewhere, and the only way we could go 
was further out on to the high ground, so we 
hiked that way. The man I was to see lived 
about two miles from our camp, and he had been 
down and invited us up to stay with him, so we 
went there. We were fortunate in having to go 
so far because if we had been ten or fifteen 
miles back on the road, we would have had to 
stay with some of the full bloods and eaten wild 
onions for a few days. As it was, we were 
royally entertained and among friends. 
We were two days on the road home and one 
of our horses came near dying of the colic. The 
mud was worse than on the trip out, but we 
finally got in. We made a joke of all our 
troubles and now laugh heartily about the trip. 
On our way back we ran across a bunch of 
full bloods at a country store, and among them 
was Jim Blackfox, and he told us he had gotten 
A Difficult Journey 
By ROY E. NABERS 
