Just a Few Trout. 
Dodge City, Kan., June i .—Editor Forest and 
Stream: "Be a sportsman, Will. Play fair and 
never try to catch a trout with a spoon hook. 
I hear that there are some large trout under 
the dam and also at Judd's Bridge, and Mr. 
Murray (that was W. H. H. Murray, of Adiron¬ 
dack fame) is very likely to get them all if 
they are not attended to.” 
So remarked F. W. Gunn, my schoolmaster 
at Washington, Conn., in 1866. He stroked his 
long white chin whiskers and looked mild and 
innnocent. 
“Yes, sir,” I replied; “I am going fishing to¬ 
morrow, and I will remember what you say.” 
I was up before day. It was in July, the 
not afraid of being caught. Then I crept to 
the edge of the dam, and fixing my rod and 
putting on the little bass spoon, made a long 
cast and drew it from the quick water into the 
quiet water near the west end of the dam. 
Once carefully—nothing. The next time came 
a great shadowy, darting dark brown fish out 
of the foaming swift water, grabbed the spoon 
and away he went out of sight. How he pulled ! 
But I wore him out in a few minutes, and when 
he was half drowned I pulled him up as near 
as I dared and then lifted him out of the water 
with my stiff bass rod and slung him out in the 
road behind me. The three hooks were all 
bedded in his mouth, and I had him safe. Oh! 
what a beauty! About three pounds. A brook 
trout, short and chunky, with colors like a 
WHITE HOUSE POOE, POINT REYES, CALIFORNIA. 
R. C. Haas, landing a It-pound steelhead trout with a typical American short bait-casting rod, which the London 
tournament committee thinks is not practical for fishing. 
weather was quiet, and it seemed as if summer 
had completed her work, made everything per¬ 
fect and was resting. I made a short cut, for 
fear of Murray, who was a very early bird at 
times, from the house up the path straight west, 
past Frank Brindsmaid’s house, and down to 
the mill pond above the dam. Then I pulled 
off my clothes, rolled them in a bundle, and 
put them on my head, tied on, and swam across, 
and then went back and got my rod and creel. 
I tied the rod case strings around my neck and 
same with the creel strap, and they floated as 
I swam across. It was nice and cool in the 
water, and I crept out like an otter, and dressed 
in the road. It was too early for anyone in 
Washington, except Murray and me, so I was 
flower, his belly a rich golden cream, the spots 
on his sides vermilion, and his back a rich, dull 
olive green. His fins were tipped with vivid 
red. I laid him carefully in my basket and felt 
like running right home to show him to Mrs. 
Gunn, who rejoiced in the pleasures of her forty 
boys. Even in the bugs that Will Gibson and 
Ehrick Rossiter used to fetch in inclosed in 
a tin pill box and exhibit to her admiring eyes, 
and Mrs. G. (good patient angel) would smile 
and say, “Yes, that’s nice,” and then change 
the subject by saying in a brisk voice, “Now 
go and wash your hands, Ehrick, before you 
go to the schoolhouse or Miss Kenyon may 
scold you.” and Ehrick would wash them and 
wash them and get some of the dirt off. 
But it was no disgrace, for a good boy’s hands 
are often dirty, and Ehrick was a little gentle¬ 
man. He was a dreamy, dark-eyed child who 
loved to wander through the fields alone. Old 
mother nature loved him, too, and he was as j 
healthy as a little Indian. 
I caught the mate to the big trout in the same ] 
way, or his brother, and then got no more 
bites, and went below the mill, waded the race, 
and fished in and out of the rapid water below 
the little island I stood on. A big trout was 
jumping about fifty yards below me, and soon 
I had him hooked and dared not pull him up 
to me, for. he was too heavy and I feared he 1 
would break away, so I had to swim across and 
go down the creek until I could play him, and ■ 
finally L landed him in shallow water. He al¬ 
most flopped back before 1 reached him, but 
I lay down on him and soon had him with his 
mates in my fish basket. He weighed two 
pounds. I went back to my island to try again. 1 
I had another bite and made up my mind to 
pull him right up to me through the swift 
water, but he was not hooked good and I lost \ 
him. "You ought to have swum the creek as 
you did before, Dick,” said a voice behind me, J 
and 1 turned around and saw Murray on the j 
edge of the dam with a long willowy fly-rod and j 
a little brown fly casting it on the foaming water 
as light as a feather, and as I looked he hooked j 
a pounder and soon got him with a landing net 
fastened to a stiff fifteen-foot bait rod. 
1 went through the foaming water and around 
the mill and. watched him fish a little while. 1 
Showed him my three big trout and he showed I 
me his creel half full of one-quarter and one- 1 
half-pounders. No big ones. And then we went 
home together. “I’ll try a spoon myself to-mor¬ 
row,” said Murray, and that made me "feel J 
better. 
Mr. Gunn met me just before I got to the 
house. I showed him the three trout and he 
said, “I knew you would go if I hinted you 
had better not, and I said what I did so that 
you would start very early. I wish I could 
steer you into paths of rectitude as easily as 
I can get you to go fishing, but I fear I can¬ 
not make you into a pious boy. Not even a 
rather good one.” So I went into the kitchen 
and Mrs. Gunn came and really admired the 
trout and ordered Mary O’Halloran to give me 
breakfast on the kitchen table, and I got a 
dandy. Mary said, “Your trout are fine, and 
if you were not so full of the divil you would 
be a swate child. I will clane thim with me 
own hands and broil them at noon for you.” 
I told her to hold out plenty for herself, and 
also that she was the best woman and the best 
cook in America. She told me that I was not j 
quite old enough to blarney good yet, but that 1 
I would be all right when I grew up. 
W. J. Dixon. i 
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supply you rcgularlv. 
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