FOREST AND STREAM. 
[APRIL 7, 1906. 

ting it to remain quiescent in the deep water, but 
as it showed no intention of moving I lifted my 
rod and put on as severe a strain as I thought my 
leader could stand, and then came the awakening. 
The salmon, with a rush swifter than that of 
an express train, darted to the further extrem- 
ity of the pool, causing my big reel to sing that 
melody which is so sweet to the angler’s ears; 
then to the head of the basin it darted as if it 
were determined to ascend the quick water above, 
but changing its course as it entered the swirls 
and eddies it darted back to its former lurking 
place from which it made three leaps high in the 
air in almost as many seconds. 
I recovered my line as rapidly as possible in or- 
der that it might not foul against a rock or piece 
of drift stuff, for the salmon in making its runs 
had formed a wide bight that might cause an 
accident. 
While I was packing my line on the reel the 
fish resumed its wild leaps and I had all I could do 
to prevent the line from being fallen upon and 
broken by the salmon. 
Across the pool it darted again and then started 
for the outlet, but Hiram, who had possibly in 
anticipation of such action, stationed himself at 
a point close to the channel, thrashed the water 
with the handle of his gaff, and turned the fish 
back into the pool; if it had succeeded in enter- 
ing the quick water I could not possibly have 
saver it, for a short distance from the outlet be- 
gan a stretch of white rapids down which it 
would have been impossible for me to follow it. 
Back to the eddy below the rock the salmon 
now returned and sank to the bottom, where it 
remained motionless. 
“That’s a fine fish, and a gamy one, too,’ ex- 
claimed the guide who had returned to my casting 
stand. “She is as bright as a new silver dollar 
and for a female a plucky fighter, too.” 
“T thought it was a female,” I answered, “her 
head was too short and shapely for that of a male 
fish; but we must not let her rest there too long. 
She’s trying to get her second wind or else en- 
deavoring to rub the hook out of her mouth.” 
“That’s right, too,” replied the guide, “she’s too 
quick there, altogether : I will start her out of 
that.’ 
At these words he threw several rocks into 
the water just below the boulder, which fell with 
a loud splash; the effect was electrical, for the 
affrighted fish left its lurking place and with 
a wild rush started across the pool just as it had 
done before. 
What a silvery beauty she was as she leaped 
high in the air in her efforts to release herself 
. from the inexorable thong which held her. 
At length she adopted new tactics and darted 
about deep in the water, evidently endeavoring to 
foul the line, which was followed by a series of 
cork-screw movements such as the salmon fre- 
quently resorts to in its efforts to twist the hook 
from its mouth. 
“She’s a crafty one, and no mistake,’ exclaimed 
the guide. “I’ll bet my boots she’s been hooked 
before.” 
“She’s becoming tired, however,’ I continued, 
“the heavy strain of my rod has been too much 
for her.” 
“Yes,” answered Hiram, “no fish could stand 
that rod; why, you have been giving her the butt 
half the time.’ 
“T know it,’”’ I replied, “I did not want to dally 
with her too much, for we’ve a long distance to 
travel and some nice pools yet to fish.” 
The salmon now yielding to the steady lift of 
my rod, abandoned the lower depth of the pool 
and moved nearer the surface; it still had consid- 
erable fighting strength left, but its leaping pow- 
ers were a thing of the past, runs of greater or 
less length it made but they gradually lost their 
electric dash. At last, coming to the surface, she 
circled about aimlessly and finally completely 
conquered, she lay on her side almost motionless. 
“She’s done for!’ exclaimed the guide, as I 
stepped back as far as I could drawing the fish 
toward him and raising my rod. 
“She’s done for, and here she is,”’ he added, as 
with a quick movement of the gaff he landed ‘the 
salmon on the beach. 
ycaees: she’ s a beauty, and no mistake,” he con- 
tinued, “not so very heavy but clean and bright 
and as fat as a seal.” 
The fish scaled but 12 pounds, but like all sal- 
mon just up from the sea, she was plucky and 
strong. ‘ 
“Well, Hiram,” I exclaimed, “we have stirred 
up this pool pretty thoroughly, ‘and if there is an- 
other salmon left in it our chances for getting it 
seem to me to be pretty slim just now; what do 
you think ?” 
“You are right, sir,” he replied, “there’s a num- 
ber of pools below us as good as this, and per- 
haps we’d better be moving, the water is pretty 
low and some of us.may have to do considerable 
wading to get the canoe over the shoal places.” 
“All right, Hiram, William had better bring the 
canoe over here and we will start.” 
“Yes,” answered the guide, and calling to his 
brother to bring the birch over he gathered sorne 
long branches of brakes which he wrapped about 
our fish to protect it from the sun, and when the 
canoe slid up on the pebbly beach he laid the sal- 
mon tenderly with the other fish which Charlie 
Boy bad packed in the bow. 
It required but a short time for us to reembark 
and obedient to the setting poles the canoe swung 
out into the channel of the river and in a few 
seconds we entered that long stretch of white 
rapids which lay between us and the next pool 
below. 
If there is anything more wildly exhilarating 
than the passage of. a series of rapids I have yet 
to experience it; tobogganing seems tame sport in 
comparison with it, as does also the bicyclist’s 
flying “coast” down a. steep hill. The wild roar 
of the rapids, the dashing of the white water 
against submerged boulders and ledges, throwing 
it sometimes many feet in the air and dashing the 
spray all around; the quick and skillful turn of 
the bow of the canoe from the jagged top of a 
ledge, which, if it were touched by the thin birch, 
would send the frail covering asunder, in which 
case the lives of the veyagers would be put in 
the greatest peril, for no swimmer could suc- 
cessfully buffet against the great force of the 
rushing water; the velocity with which the canoe 
shoots “down one steep incline after another; the 
wonderful dexterity with which the man in the 
bow avoids the many hidden dangers, steering the 
canoe into the only channel that is available; the 
sharp click of the iron-shod poles striking the 
rocks, first on one side and then on the other, 
sometimes holding the canoe almost motionless 
against the tumultuous rush while the man in the 
stern swings the craft to this side or that, as the 
case may be, steering it with a dexterity and ac- 
curacy which only long experience and great mus- 
cular powers can make possible; all these com- 
bine to make the passage of the quick water—brief 
though it is sometimes, occupying but a minute or 
two—an episode into which is crowded a degree 
of excitement such as is hardly ever found else- 
where. 
Our passage down was quickly made, too 
quickly, in fact, for I disliked the abrupt ter- 
mination of an exhilaration that was well-nigh 
intoxicating, and as we glided into the quiet pool 
below the sudden change was almost depressing. 
The water in this broad basin was shallow and 
clear, and as we quietly moved upon its surface 
we were able to examine it at every point. 
“Nary a salmon here,” exclaimed William, 
peering into the ‘water from time to time, “but 
there’s some jolly big sea trout under those 
alders on the other side, and you might pick out 
a few if you wish.” 
As I had nothing set up except my heavy sal- 
mon rod I did not care to bother with them, for I 
consider that only the lightest tackle should be 
used in angling for trout, but Charlie Boy, who 
was equipped with a quite light rod, succeeded 
in bringing to the landing net a half dozen beau- 
tiful fish. 
“TI guess you’ ve got all the best ones,” at length 
said Hiram. “Of cotirse you can get them all, 
for there’s nothing bashful about a sea trout in 
taking a fly; it will come at any and all times, 
mostly when you don’t want it, but it will hardly 
pay to wait for those little fellows over yonder.” 
“Yes,” I responded, ‘we have all the trout we 
can dispose of and we had better be moving.” 
The setting poles were again brought into ac- 
tion and we were soon moving down the river. 
During the next seven or eight miles our journey 
was uneventful, almost monotonous; short bits 
” 
of rapids alternated with shallow, colorless pools 
and long stretches of water so shoal that we were 
all obliged to leave the canoe and wade, dragging 
the birch and sometimes almost lifting it over 
the shallow places. Of course, fishing was en- 
tirely out of the question, and all of us began to 
long for the termination of that laborious strug- 
gle. At length the channel of the river became 
narrower and consequently deeper as we ap- 
proached tidewater, and we gladly resumed our 
position in the canoe. 
The increased depth of the water enabled the 
guides to lay aside their setting poles and use the 
paddles and we glided from one pool to another, 
thoroughly testing each with the fly, but finding 
nothing except a brace of grilse worth the catch- 
Ing. 
At last we approached the famous Flat Rock 
Pool, the lowest on the river, a pool from which 
salmon almost without number have been taken, 
and early in the season a great many sea trout, 
4 and 5-pounders, which follow the smelts in 
from the bay. 
In this pool we expected to find at least one 
good salmon, for those fish always make it their 
first halting place when coming in from the salt 
water. At the upper end of the basin was a con- 
siderable stretch of beach composed of pebbles 
and small stones, from which casting-place the 
angler could cover nearly the whole pool with his 
fly, although to reach the deep water at the lower 
end would require a very long cast. Stepping 
ashore on this beach I prepared my tackle for 
service, while Charlie Boy and the guides lighted 
a fire for the purpose of preparing a meal of 
which we were all greatly in need, nothing but a 
few. biscuit having been eaten by us during that 
long journey down the river. 
The Flat Rock as it is called, is the nose of a 
large ledge which juts far out into the river, and 
at its extreme point the water is quite deep and 
full of circling eddies. Its color was also quite 
dark, probably in consequence of the stream hav- 
ing ‘been fed by several brooks which flowed 
through swamps and meadow lands a Short dis- 
tance away. To meet this condition I selected 
a medium-sized Durham ranger, which I affixed 
to my leader, and moving down to the farther 
limit of the little beach, I made my first offering. 
It was an ideal afternoon for fly-fishing, the 
rays of the sun being hidden by great masses of 
clouds, and a rather brisk breeze was blowing 
down the stream, covering the surface of the pool 
with little flecks of foam which danced about on 
the rippled surface of the water. 
All the upper portion of the pool I covered in 
the most thorough manner, for one never knows 
when or where a salmon will rise, and then 
lengthening my line more and more, I finally 
dropped my lure in the big eddy in the middle of 
the basin, 
The fly had hardly sunk below the surface and 
received the first drag before a response came, 
and lifting my rod rather sharply, I found that 
I had hooked a goodly fish. 
“Cree-e-e!’? how my big reel sang as the sal- 
mon darted down the pool apparently determined 
to return to salt water. Of course, no tackle 
could check that mad rush, but I lifted my rod and 
put on all the strain I dared; fortunately, the fish 
returned to the deep water of the pool, where it 
began a series of wonderful leaps such as I had — 
hardly ever before witnessed. 
The salmon seemed to be in the air quite. as 
much as in the water, and one would almost im-- 
agine there were three or four of them leaping 
simultaneously, so rapidly did it move from one 
part of the basin to another. 
“That’s a mighty active fish!” exclaimed Will- 
iam, who, gaff in hand, stood beside me. “If he 
keeps on leaping like that he will play himself 
out, for sure. Why, he’s as lively as a grilse and 
he’s jumping all over the pool in the same 
breath.” 
The guide’s prediction proved correct, for by 
one of those odd chances which occur in every 
salmon angler’s experience, the fish seemed to 
disdain going to the bottom to sulk, or to resort 
to any of those artifices which the salmon usually 
employ to obtain their freedom. He fought 
steadily and pluckily but always near the sur- 
face, never pausing a moment to get his second 
wind, but keeping up the pace until his exhaus- 
