SPORT WITH ROD AND REEL
The three young Alaskans were all very fair masters of the art of fishing with the fly, and now surely had excellent opportunity to practice it. The trout and grayling were rising in scores, and for half a mile the surface of the bright water was broken into countless rings and ripples. Now and then some fish sprang entirely above the water. John and Jesse took the nearer shore, while Rob hurried around over the pole bridge at the head of the stream, just below the head spring.
“What have you got on, John?” asked Jesse.
“Jock Scott, No. 4,” replied John. “Try a good big Silver Doctor; these big fellows ought to take it.”
They began to cast, trying to reach the mid-channel, where, over the white sand of the channel, the fish were rising most vigorously. All at once Jesse gave an exclamation.
“Wow! Look at that, hey?”
His fly had been taken by a great fish which had made for it a dozen feet away. The rod went up into an arch. Again and again the fish sprang high above the water, four, five, six times, one leap after another; and then came a long, steady savage run which carried Jesse down along the bank, following the fish. He had all he could do to master the powerful fish, but, keeping on a steady pressure, he at last got him close inshore, where John netted him.
“That’s a steelhead—that’s why he’s such a jumper!” exclaimed John. “Well done, Jess!” exclaimed John, holding up the splendid fish to view. “Six pounds, if he’s an ounce!”
A sudden shout from Rob, across the water, called their attention. He also was playing a heavy fish, which broke water again and again.
“What you got, Rob?” called John.