After selecting such flies, hooks, and lines as they thought might prove alluring to the fish, Will and Sandy started away in the direction of the little stream which ran out of the glacier a mile or so to the north and took a general direction toward Copper river.
After walking half a mile or more, they came to a line of rocks which seemed to extend from the open ice of the glacier to the coast, a distance of perhaps five or six miles. West of this line of moraine rocks the land sloped gradually to the northwest and here the headwaters of the little creek they sought were found.
Straight away to the north, west of the glacier, rose a range of wooded hills just now bright with blossoms and swarming with insect life. The little creek crept along to the south of this range, and, further down, separated the ground to the south from the hills.
Sandy leaped across the little rivulet as it came bubbling out of the ice hidden under the moraine and started down the bank next to the line of hills. Will kept to the other side.
"Why don't you come across?" shouted Sandy.
"What's the good of crossing over at all?" Will asked. "Before long the stream will be so wide that you can't cross back, and then you'll have to retrace your steps clear to the headwaters!"
"I can swim, can't I?" laughed Sandy.
"Not in that cold water!" replied Will.
Sandy only laughed in reply to the warning, and the two boys proceeded downstream, one on each side of the rivulet.
Within half an hour they caught half a dozen salmon of fair size, weighing from four to six pounds, using only red flannel for bait.