77 o 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Nov. 14, 1908. 
A hundred yards or so above the bend below 
which I landed, I came to a stream emptying 
into the Pilchuck, which looked like a promising 
water for smallish fish, and I determined that 
if I lacked a creel full when I returned I would 
test its capabilities, for I have often found that 
seemingly insignificant waters suprise one in 
abundance and size of fish, this particularly in 
trout fishing. Appearances are often very de¬ 
ceptive in this matter, though the fact men¬ 
tioned may obtain chiefly in regions much 
fished. Often have I, in New England, left 
larger streams, with deep, promising, unsatis¬ 
fying holes, for some quiet, modest little brook 
hidden largely by the long grass that hung in 
tangles over it as it threaded its silent way 
through some meadow, with difficulty dropping 
the worm through the network of stems, and 
weighted my creel with beauties whose velvety 
sides were as dark as the shadowy retreats 
where they lay cool and unseen when the day 
was hot. 
I worked along slowly and enjoyably, as only 
the trout fisher can, taking a fish here and there 
with the feathery deception, and saving the 
spots where I could not cast well, for the worm 
or fin, on my return, for I knew some lurkers 
were warily balancing themselves on slow fins 
as they watched the lumbering monster in the 
upper world. As I ascended the scenery grew 
wilder. The mountain sides were more precipi¬ 
tous and the stream bed narrower, making fish¬ 
ing more difficult. But it was good to be there 
amid the solitude and grandeur, with a hand¬ 
some trout coming to hand now and then, giv¬ 
ing vigorous exercise for the resilient rod, and 
piling up more stock in memory’s store-room. 
When the day wore along to the full and a 
vacant feeling beneath my “weskit” reminded 
me that I had provender in waiting, I chose a 
spot where the brawling stream spread itself a 
little over its rocky bed, and seating myself on 
a stone with my back comfortably against a 
stranded log, I stretched my tired limbs at full 
length and rested myself most enjoyably, wish¬ 
ing fervently that certain of my friends far away 
could be there to fill themselves full of this hour, 
as with pleasant chat we whiled away the noon, 
and touched elbows just a little closer with 
nature. Lunch over, I filled the brier root re¬ 
ceptacle with comforting Lone Jack, and as the 
fragrant smoke floated Upward and away in 
graceful shapes, I ruminated on fish and fishing, 
fishculture, propagation, depletion, protection, 
and kindred topics with which Forest and 
Stream, far away in New York city, was 
weekly entertaining and enlightening its readers. 
Memories of many other fishing experiences 
in widely separated sections of our land rose 
before me, and with this, that and the other I 
found myself nodding ere I knew it. I did not 
think very favorably of that, away up there in 
the wilderness, subject to annoying interviews 
from Cascade fauna, without choice in the 
matter, so I roused myself, and with face down 
stream leisurely investigating likely water, 
taking some lovely fish out of the wet, and 
throwing back some good ones which I should 
have been very glad to keep on some streams, 
I plodded boatward. There was one very 
trouty-looking hole that I could not get a fly 
on satisfactorily when I went up, and as I ap¬ 
proached it on juy return I determined to use 
all my skill to get some big fellows out of it. 
I made a detour through the woods at one 
side, as we all have so often done, in order to 
obtain the best vantage. In doing so I had to 
cross some old logs, and carelessly stepping on 
one I slipped on some moss, tried to catch my 
footing, made it worse, and floundering and 
pawing the air, went down in a scrambling heap, 
throwing my rod from me to save it, barking 
my shins, bruising my hands, nearly putting one 
eye out against a stub, uttering ejaculations 
more forcible than elegant, and seeing my fish, 
from a burst-open basket, go flopping in several 
directions. Then I righted myself, sat down and 
rubbed my anatomy in divers places, with sun¬ 
dry grunts which seemed to take the edge off 
the pain, after which I corraled my trout, and 
proceeded to fish that hole with a worm, and 
took out some as handsome one and two- 
pounders as ever waved a fin. 
Well, time and a good many steps at length 
brought me to the little stream before mentioned, 
and although I had an abundance of trout, the 
desire to explore, innate in almost every one, 
led me to go up it a ways, which if I had not 
done this tale had not been spun. The stream 
flowed through a miniature canon whose walls 
were for the most part steep and high, in places 
leaving little more than room for the stream. 
I found the fish plentiful, though small, in com¬ 
parison to the average of those in the Pilchuck, 
and had not gone far before I concluded that I 
did not want any more trout that day; so I 
stopped to “knock down” my rig, and had just 
got as far as to unjoint the rod when, glancing 
carelessly up the ravine, my eye caught a move¬ 
ment among some low bushes between the 
stream and rock wall. There was not cover 
enough for any large animal or I should prob¬ 
ably have got out of the locality in haste. I 
walked forward as noiselessly as possible, and 
on nearing the bushes caught a glimpse of a 
tawny tinge, which moved as the owner ap¬ 
parently saw me, and in a moment I made out 
the shape of a cougar kitten, which, I concluded, 
had fallen from some den above, and it would 
not, probably, be long before the dam would 
be on the trail. 
Several thoughts went through me in a hurry. 
Here was a chance for a flyer in zoology as 
good as I should ever have. The boat was 
not far away, the kit was small, not much over 
a foot in length, and if I could once get aboard 
with it my chances for a safe outcome were 
good. I resolved to try for it. I glanced hastily 
around and above. Nothing in sight. So I 
took off my creel and coat, replaced the creel 
in a hurry, and laying my rod on the ground in 
plain sight, took my corduroy coat in both 
hands and cautiously approached the animal, 
which had remained motionless, either from 
being hurt or stunned by its fall, or from 
natural stealth. As I neared it it started up and 
tried to sneak off, but I was too quick for it, 
and spreading the coat out, threw it over the 
kit, seized it, rolled it up as rapidly as possible, 
and turning, picked up my rod and was off. 
I am not so limber in my legs as I used to 
be, and my wind is liable to peter out sooner 
than I would like, but I believe I made as good 
time down to the mouth of that brook as any 
one could. How I did run ! I fairly surprised 
myself. If I could have run like that on a track 
I could have captured the world’s honors as a 
sprinter. But it makes a difference whether the 
incentive to movement is behind or ahead of 
you. Fortunately I made no misstep. If I had 
I believe I should have broken my neck. I 
looked back once or twice hurriedly where a 
slight turn gave opportunity without slacking 
speed, but nothing followed, to my great relief 
and encouragement. The kit struggled some 
and tried to cry, but I clutched it the closer 
and ran the faster, if possible, while the way 
that creel dangled and bumped around my body 
was punishing in the extreme. I thought it 
would disable me if I had to keep it up long. 
I expected every jump to hear the enraged 
scream of the old cat, but I splashed through 
the mouth of the brook and straightened out 
in the trail down the Pilchuck all safe, though 
it was not very straight or clear. Still it was 
a welcome trail and I knew were it led and a 
hundred yards or so would take me to the boat. 
As the engineers say, “I pulled her wide 
open,” and although my heart thumped violently 
and my wind began to grow “powerful lackin’,” 
my legs did themselves proud, and I noticed 
with gratification that I was nearing the bend 
at the head of the pool where my boat waited 
for me. I panted round this bend and was mak¬ 
ing fine time on the last quarter, when horror 
of horrors! There in the trail where it ran 
alongside the steep bank stood a full-grown 
cougar apparently as much surprised as I. 
Here was a fix indeed, a full period, a short 
stop to my progress in that direction. 
What did I do? What would you have done? 
What would anybody? There was only one 
thing to do, and it had to be done presto. I 
never stopped, but dashed off that bluff to the 
left with as big a leap as I could spur my legs 
to make, just as though the trail led that way. 
I never gave the cat another glance to ascer¬ 
tain what it thought of this episode. I hadn’t 
time. Fortunately I struck the water feet first, 
and at once made for the. swift current, di¬ 
agonally crossing the channel. In my frantic 
exertions, half swimming, half wading in water 
nearly up to my shoulders I lost my grip on 
the coat, which, with the kit still inside, floated 
away toward the log drift, but before it reached 
it the kit in its struggles had emerged from the 
bundle, and floating and struggling with half 
smothered cries at length reached the jam just 
ahead of and a little below and clambered out. 
The moment I laid my hands on the first half 
submerged log I struck, I looked back and there, 
headed for me, a little distance from the op¬ 
posite shore, was that cat, now enraged by the 
cries of its young, making swiftly for my Side 
of the stream. It is commonly reported that 
cats will not take water, but you should have 
seen that cat swim. It was entirely too much 
at home in the water to suit me. I had not a 
moment to spare. I dare not run lest the 
cougar should pursue me regardless of the kit. 
My only hope was to find some weapon with 
which to smash the creature’s skull before it 
could emerge from the water. Things seemed 
to be narrowing down to a very fine point. 
Hastily looking around I saw, a little higher up, 
a smooth handle of something sticking out of 
the debris, and running to it was rejoiced, if 
ever I was, to pull out a heavy handspike, left 
behind in some lumbering operations, and now 
washed down there, as I hoped, for my deliver¬ 
ance. I quickly threw down my coat, and with 
my heart in my mouth stepped down to where 
