“This is great, John, isn’t it?” exclaimed he. “And how they do fight! We never had any trout up in Alaska that fought this hard. Even the salmon we caught on Kadiak Island didn’t pull much harder.”
When finally they had landed Jesse’s trout they stood at the beach and, holding up their prizes, gave a shout, which was answered by Rob from the other side of the lake. He also held up something in his hand which was white and glistening.
“They’re having good luck, too,” said he. “Well, now let’s settle down and get a mess of trout, for I am like Moise, tired of eating bacon all the time.”
They did settle down, and, each finding a good casting-place on the rocky point, they so skilfully plied their rods that in a short time they had a dozen fine trout between them. As their companions seemed to have stopped fishing by this time, they also reeled up their lines and started back across the marsh.
“Pretty good luck, eh?” said Uncle Dick, as they admiringly held up their string of fish. “Well, Rob and I have got about as many here.”
“Didn’t they fight hard, though?” asked Rob. “I never saw fish of their size make such trouble.”
“The water is very cold,” said Uncle Dick, “and that makes the fish very firm and active. I don’t know just what they eat, but I suppose there must be some little minnows in the lake. Then there are some insects on warm days; and perhaps they get some kind of ground feed once in a while.”
“They’re all rainbows, aren’t they?” said Rob. “As near as I can tell, they look like the rainbows on the Pacific slope. How did they get over here?”
“How did they get into any of the streams in the United States east of the Rocky summit?” asked Uncle Dick. “Nobody can answer that. Of course, all the rainbows in the Eastern states are planted there. But when you get up on the marsh of the Yellowhead Pass, where the water doesn’t know which way to run, you will wonder if sometime in the past the Pacific trout didn’t swim into Atlantic waters—just as they are said to have done at the Two-Ocean Pass, south of the Yellowstone Park. Nature has her own way of doing things, and, as she has had plenty of time, we don’t always know just how she did some things.”
“I wonder,” said Jesse, as he looked around him at the great mountains, “if these old mountains ever have a good time off by themselves in here. They’re awfully old, aren’t they?”