The Little Delaware. 
Tom Scott walked briskly into the black¬ 
smith shop, and pulling the cover from a paste¬ 
board box, displayed six brook trout. 
“Good ones,” commented Robert Bruce, 
“where did you get them?” 
“In the Little Delaware,” Tom replied. 
“I never heard of their catching any trout in 
that stream. Why didn’t you tell me you were 
going fishing?” 
“Didn’t go fishing—went to Delhi on busi¬ 
ness. I was sauntering around the streets be¬ 
fore breakfast, and an old fellow just opening 
up his grocery store asked me if I wanted to 
see something pretty. He took me to the back 
of the store and showed me thirty-two like these, 
lying side by side on a board. He said he caught 
them in the Little Delaware, but he claimed that 
he was the only one' who ever had good luck 
there. I told him I would like to try it a 
whack, if I had any tackle with me. He offered 
to lend me a rod, but he said I wouldn’t get 
anything. I finished my business a few hours 
before train time and called for the tackle. He 
looked as if he wanted to back water then, but 
he handed ont a ratty old rig that wasn’t fit 
for sucker fishing. I got these on it, though, 
and he was pretty well taken back when I 
showed down. Every one around Delhi claims 
that the creek is all fished out, and that this 
groceryman only gets them because he was 
born on the stream, and knows some special 
holes.” 
“Special holes be hanged! If there’s any 
trout there, we can find them,” Robert re¬ 
torted. “What sort of a place is it to fly-fish?” 
“That’s just the point. It’s of good size and 
has clear banks. I’ll never find a beter spot to 
learn fly-fishing. Don’t you want to go with 
me some day, and teach me how?” 
“Yes, I’ll go to-morrow. We could take the 
afternoon train and have all the next day at it.” 
“That suits me,” Tom replied. 
With this arrangement the young men parted, 
and did not meet again until the next day, 
when Scott appeared at the shop prepared for 
fishing, nearly an hour in advance of train time. 
“You’ll find Robert at the house getting ready 
to start,” said Mr. Bruce, Sr., and Tom fol¬ 
lowed the well known path. Robert was ready 
and soon they were on their way to the railroad 
station. 
When nature was laying out her garden, with 
great prairies here and groups of mountains 
there, she fashioned a charming little cradle 
among the hills of Delaware county, seemingly 
on purpose for Dehli. You may tell where it 
is by the spires which prick up through the 
sheltering canopy of elm and maple leaves. If 
you go down under the canopy you may meet 
some very pleasant people; but whether you 
meet them or not, you will see that they live in 
a beautiful spot. 
When Tom and Robert arrived at Delhi they 
drove a short distance down the river, and then 
turning sharply to the left, followed up the 
Little Delaware valley to a place called The 
Hook. Two farmhouses, a small building with 
hotelish pretensions, and a tiny barn, was the 
full invoice of The Hook. The proprietor of 
the hotel stopped planting corn, and leaning his 
hoe against a tree, came out of the field to re¬ 
ceive his guests. The two young men consti¬ 
tuted the entire clientele of the place, and so 
far as appearances went, were the first to be 
entertained in some weeks. 
The Hook House did not seem like a very 
iniquitous tavern. There were no people in the 
room which answered for both bar and office, 
and only two chairs for them to have sat on 
bad they been there. The bar must have been 
the conception of some former proprietor, for 
it had nothing behind it more satanical looking 
than a jar of stick candy and a couple of Rox- 
bury russet apples. The proprietor was as in¬ 
offensive as his house, and the only distinguish¬ 
ing feature about him was a clump of islandized 
whiskers upon the point of his chin. He did 
not appear to be in the-least offended at the 
arrival of guests, and calmly went to a door 
leading into the kitchen, where he asked his 
wife if she could get supper for two men. That 
the request would be granted was evident by 
the eruption which began to take place among 
the stove lids and frying pans. 
After supper Tom watched Robert work with 
his flies while he proved beyond a doubt that 
there were trout in the Little Delaware. Then 
they were shown to their room by the pro¬ 
prietor, whom they referred to between them¬ 
selves as Mr. Turnover. The apartment seemed 
tO' occupy the larger part of the second story 
of the hotel and was furnished with two very 
high cord bedsteads. On top of thick husk 
ticks were mountain-like feather beds covered 
over with white quilts upon which much red 
and green peony vegetation had sprung up. To 
successfully mount one of these beds was quite 
an aerial feat. When the young men were 
ready to retire, Robert offered assistance to 
Tom by locking his fingers and placing his up¬ 
turned palms upon his bent knee, for a step. 
By this means Tom vaulted easily into the 
center of the fluffy mass and settled down. 
Seized by a sudden fit of gallantry, he slid to 
the floor and exclaimed: 
“My dear Robert, I cannot leave you un¬ 
assisted to make this dangerous ascent. Allow 
me to serve you,” and he in turn locked his 
fingers and ceremoniously gave Robert a lift. 
Robert landed safely, but caught the gallant in¬ 
fection. In turn he slid to the floor, remarking: 
“My dear Thomas, do you think I could per¬ 
mit you to endanger your person by this perilous 
undertaking?” and he again offered his hands 
as a step. 
So they mounted and remounted with mar¬ 
velous showings of courtesy as many as a half- 
dozen times. At length Tom sprang a little too 
far, and gave his elbow a vicious thump against 
the wall. As he rolled forward and settled 
down out of sight among the feathers, he called 
back: 
“Now, you landlocked shrimp, you climb in 
and keep still or I’ll pull out a bedpost and 
pound you with it.” 
Nothing more was heard until Robert, poking 
his head above the breastwork of feathers which 
surrounded him, saw Tom standing by an east¬ 
ern window, faintly revealed in the mellow light 
of dawn. “Can’t you keep still and let a fellow 
sleep?” he snapped. 
“Don’t want to sleep past breakfast time, do 
you? See, it’s almost daylight.” 
“Yes, it looks like daylight! Daylight that’s 
had lamp black spilled in it! It’s just the way 
with you greenhorns. Up and at it in the 
middle of the night, and then all played out by 
noon. But I suppose I might as well start. 
There won’t be any more chance to sleep with 
you threshing around.” 
“It’s a good thing tO’ have some one to lay 
it on to,” Tom retorted,” but as nearly as I can 
remember, it is the first time I ever beat you 
out of bed when we were on a fishing trip. I 
wouldn’t feel so much put out about it if I 
were you.” 
With stealthy rubber-boot tread they felt their 
dark way down the creaky staircase, and strad¬ 
dling the prostrate form of the shepherd dog, 
opened the front door. 
“It’s a good thing we want to go out instead 
of in,” Robert observed, as he glanced back at 
the watchful eyes. 
While they were putting their rods together 
and adjusting the reels a rooster jumped down 
from his perch in the hen yard, and flopping his 
wings as he grandly bent his neck, sent a 
challenge to all the roosters in the valley. Ac¬ 
cepting this as a surer sign of day than the un¬ 
certain light, a drake appeared from the door 
of his little house and headed a quacking pro¬ 
cession which waddled down to the creek. Tom 
and Robert started up stream across the pasture, 
where their boots made jagged parallel lines 
on the gray carpet of dew-covered grass. A 
crow sat on the top of the tallest tilted fence 
stake and watched while four others walked 
hurriedly over a newly planted cornfield in 
search of scattered kernels. Crow number p ne 
cawed and flew away, and the four others fol¬ 
lowed his example. Mild-eyed Jersey cows 
watched curiously, and then getting up, retreated 
to a safer distance. The men went by the 
corner of a bit of woods, despite the red 
squirrel’s threatening, climbed a pair of bars 
and struck into a highway where a moss-covered 
watering trough was running over. Water 
seems colder and clearer at that time of day. 
They passed a barnyard where three wondering 
calves peeked at them from between the fence 
boards. On the other side of the barn real lambs 
were twitching real lamb’s tails while the sheep 
nipped the grass with rapid little chewings. At 
a place where the creek runs by the roadside 
they began to fish. Robert was soon playing 
a trout, and the sight filled Tom with enthusiasm 
Imitating his partner’s movements as accurately 
as possible, he unfurled his brand new fly-cast¬ 
ing equipment and boldly launched his feathery 
