“Good morning, John.”
“Mornin’, ol’ timer.”
“John, is there a waterfall on the big creek?”
“Yes, I’ve heard ’em, an’ I’ve seen ’em from the ridge, but I ain’t ever bin close to ’em.”
“Do you think there would be any fish at the foot of the falls?”
“Couldn’t say, ol’ timer. It ain’t never bin fished.”
To the disciples of Isaac Walton the expression “never been fished” brings an incomparable thrill. To cast a fly on virgin waters is the acme of bliss to an angler. Donald unjointed his rod, slung his basket over a shoulder and started toward the trail.
“Ye better let me fix ye up a lunch to take along,” the trapper shouted after him.
“Good suggestion,” admitted Donald as he retraced his steps.
Fried eggs placed between slices of snow-white bread, fresh doughnuts, cake and cheese were quickly prepared by the deft hands of the old trapper, and Donald was again on his way.