934 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[June 17, 19x1. 
how to tie flies and all that, and I used to prac¬ 
tice casting sometimes in the duck-pond. 
“I remember one time we was clearing 
timber a couple of mile back of the house, and 
had brought our lunch along, so we could make 
a full day of it. When noontime came along 
we lay off on the grass alongside a big pool in 
the Big Sandy, to eat and rest up. While we 
was talking the old man tossed in a bread 
crust, and it sank under and stayed under— 
never came up. I wasn’t noticing especially, 
only I had that queer feeling in my mind that 
you get when something happens that ain’t 
quite regular, and yet you don't take it in. The 
old man threw another crust in, and that one 
acted the same way. Then it come to me that 
they must be reason in the bottom of that pool 
why it didn’t come up. I didn’t say anything, 
but I crept up behind a big rock and dropped 
in a good sized piece, watching close. It went 
under, all right, and then a big dark shadow 
come up out of the bottom and there was a 
swirl, and the crust was gone. I called ovei 
the old man, and he watched another go the 
same way. ‘Gosh,’ says he, ‘they must be all- 
fired hungry.’ Then I asked him if my little 
brother Sandy and me couldn’t come and try 
our luck the next morning. He was a little ex¬ 
cited himself, so he said he guessed maybe we 
could. 
“That night I got out my flies and tackle, and 
put th£m all in shape, and went to bed with 
my head full of trout. I woke Sandy up about 
three the next morning, and we started off, 
reaching the stream about sunrise. I saw the 
day was going to be bright, so I tied on a gray- 
hackle and a silver-doctor. I had picked out 
a big rock at the head of the pool that stood 
in the middle of the stream breast-high, divid¬ 
ing it in half, as it hid the best part of me and 
also faced the sun. I put Sandy over on the 
bank to the right with the landing net. I had 
an eleven-foot split bamboo rod that weighed 
ten and a half ounces—a shade heavy, maybe— 
but it gave me a good long swing for my cast. 
Then I was ready. I waded very quiet around 
behind the rock, got a good foothold, and be¬ 
gan working out my line, a little at a time till 
I had about thirty-five feet, or maybe forty, and 
then I let her go for the middle of the pool. 
Gentlemen, as I sit here, them flies never 
touched the water. Three trout shot up from 
the bottom of that pool two feet clear, it 
seemed, of the water. It may have been a few 
inches less—I was too excited to notice care¬ 
fully. Of course, they was only flies for two, 
and one of them got shouldered aside and 
flopped back disgruntled-like. The other two 
caught a-holt, and I was so dumbfounded I 
give a jerk that would have lifted a saw-log. 
There was a snap and one trout was gone, tak¬ 
ing the fly with him. The other one sailed 
clean over my head into the white water back 
of me. By this time I had got back my head 
and I worked him back down stream into the 
pool and over to Sandy, who landed him and 
strung him up. 
“Well, then I made up my mind that if they 
was more trout in that pool as hungry as them 
three they wa’n’t no call for art and science, 
but I’d best get right down to a business basis. 
So I told Sandy to walk up stream till he was 
about thirty-five feet back of me on the same 
right-hand bank. Then I wired on the old gray- 
hackle with some fine piano wire. I turned a 
little so I could just reach Sandy on the back 
cast and the center of the pool on the forward 
cast. I was satisfied, this time, with one fly. 
"I started in. At the first cast the hook 
caught a trout in the middle of his leap out of 
water, and I swung him carefully over my head 
to the bank, where I had put Sandy. He had 
him off the hook in a second, and back swung 
the hackle toward the pool. Another trout, and 
another swing to Sandy, and then back again 
to the pool. Sometimes the fly would lay on 
the water a half second before the strike came. 
Most always, though, it would be from six 
inches to a foot in the air. After the first 
dozen or so I found that if I gave a quick for¬ 
ward twist of the rod just before the fish landed 
on the bank behind me I could shake him off 
the hook, without waiting for Sandy to get him 
free. 1 hen it was just one continuous move¬ 
ment. back and forward, back and forward, over 
my head, like this”-—and the old man demon¬ 
strated with long sweeps of his arm—“and a 
trout at every swing. I never did see anything, 
not barring a pack of hungry wolves at the tail 
end of winter, as vicious as them trout. 
“My arm was getting mighty tired, and I was 
just about to quit, having enough trout for a 
whole lumber gang, anyway, when all of a 
sudden Sandy let out a yell and the next thing 1 
knew his bare legs was flashing past me like 
the spokes in one of them autymubble wheels. 
I glanced over my shoulder upstream, and 
there come lumbering over the rocks, with 
wicked red eyes a-gleaming, and white teeth 
a-showing, the nastiest looking black bear I 
ever see. I didn’t wait to introduce myself nor 
pass the time of day. I hiked out after Sandy, 
leaving my rod on the rock and all them beauti¬ 
ful trout on the shore. There was a long 
stretch of straight water ahead, without a 
bend, and I kept to the left bank. I stumbled 
over a root and fell onto my hands. As 1 
scrambled up I glanced back over my shoulder. 
The bear had stopped at the heap of trout. I 
knew he would never pass them up, and my 
nerve came back. Sandy was out of sight, and 
safe, so I thought I’d see what would happen. 
The bear was making a free lunch, chawing 
down the best catch I had ever made two at a 
gulp. I don’t know how many they was, as I 
had been too busy to count, but when he fin¬ 
ished his meal they wasn’t even a head or a 
tail in sight. Then he yawned nice and lazy a 
couple of times, looked up at me and licked his 
chops, and then his mouth stretched out in the 
nearest thing to a grin I ever see on an ani¬ 
mal’s face. 
“I had about four feet of line in my 
pocket, and a couple of hooks, and they was 
good young hickory about, so I cut a rod and 
rigged it up. Then I got out my knife and 
dug around in the soil, the bear keeping a lazy 
eye on me all the while. I turned up a couple 
of worms after awhile, and baited up. There 
was some brush overhanging a quiet spot in the 
stream and I stuck the rod through and let 
the worm sink gently in the water. Sure 
enough, it was taken, and I landed a pretty fair 
trout. I noticed the bear was getting inter¬ 
ested. I tried again, and got another. The bear 
got up and began to edge up a little. I got 
nervous, but didn’t give ground, and pretty 
soon I had three more. The bear walked 
slowly toward me. I tried a couple more times 
and got two more trout, and then I decided 
that they was only room for one where I was 
standing, and the bear seemed to like the place 
better than I did, so I strung my trout and 
left it to him. He wasn’t hurrying—just seemed 
interested—so I didn’t hurry. I saw him sniff 
around the holes I had made digging; then he 
commenced to claw up the ground. Pretty 
soon he stopped, sat back on his haunches, and 
seemed to be fooling with his claws. I couldn’t 
make out what he was doing at first—looked as 
though he was trying to put on gloves. Then 
it struck me—that bear had dug up some more 
worms and had got them stuck on his claws. 
The last I seen of him, as I turned the bend, he 
was laying flat on his belly over the stream, 
with both forepaws stretched out through the 
branches, dipping in the water. I met father 
coming up with a gun and little Sandy, and—— 
“Welland!” yelled the brakeman, and with a 
hurried “Good-by, gentlemen—my station,” he 
made for the door. We watched him walk down 
the platform as our train gathered headway, ex¬ 
pectorating a beautiful spiral across the full 
width of the twenty-foot boards. He seemed at 
peace with all the world and he never even 
glanced in our direction. 
THE TOP RAIL. 
Some owners of prism binocu’ar field and 
marine glasses object to their bulk, as they are 
thicker than the old binoculars, and cannot be 
carried as snugly in a pocket. A foreign firm 
claims it has obviated this in its new glasses, 
which are made in four parts, hinged. In use 
they are similar to other prism binoculars, but 
when “folded” flat, in which shape they fit into 
a pocket case the size of an ordinary small book, 
they are very compact. In a sectional view they 
resemble two comp'ete links of a motor cycle 
chain. Whether the power and definition are 
good is another matter. It often happens that 
one feature which is excellent is offset by others 
that are indifferent. One of the British glasses, 
which used to appeal to sportsmen because of its 
compact form, had lenses inferior to those of 
the dollar telescope. 
* * * 
One night a pretty yacht hove to in the middle 
of the Hudson and began to whistle. Two boatmen 
lounging ashore raced out to her, to find a dapper 
old fellow waiting at the gangway, eager to be 
put ashore in time to keep an engagement. To 
the boatman who arrived first he presented a 
ten-cent piece when he reached the boat landing. 
And he said that he might call him again for 
similar service. The boatman said nothing audi¬ 
ble at the time, for his sense of humor is keen; 
but the next time that yacht whistled for a boat 
no one responded. “Aw,” said the boatman of 
experience, “that’s that ten-cent yacht.” To this 
day she is known a'ongshore by that name and 
no other. Grizzly King. 
