Finally I went back to the ford, jointed up my rod, put on a gray professor, and walking down the bank to a sudden bend in the river where the current had cut a deep hole near the bank, I made a cast. The fly dropped on the riffle just above the eddy, and as it floated gracefully on the little wavelets down and out upon the bosom of the deep-blue miniature ocean, it turned hither and thither with the capricious currents that played there, for perhaps five minutes. I was just in the act of reeling up for another cast, when a gleam of silvery light flashed upon my vision, flecked with settings of jet and gold. There was a mighty commotion upon the surface and a monster trout leaped full into the air as he seized the feathered bait and then shot down, down into the crystal fluid, leaving the water in the vicinity of his exploit bubbling, effervescing, and sparkling like the rarest old champagne. For the nonce I was paralyzed with the suddenness and viciousness of his coming and going, and my reel was singing merrily when I awoke to a realization of what it all meant.
Then I thumbed the cylinder and checked him in his wild flight, but he continued to fight his way clear down to the lower end of the pool, a distance of twenty yards. Then he turned and came toward me with the speed of an arrow, but the automatic reel took up the slack as rapidly as he gave it. When within twenty feet of me he turned out into the stream, and as I checked him he again vaulted into the air and the sun-light glistened on his beautifully-colored sides and fins as he struggled to free himself. Finding this impossible he started for the bank, where brush and roots projected into the water; but by a vigorous and fortunate sweep of the rod I was enabled to check him again. Again he sounded and again rushed up, down, and out into the river, but the steel was securely set, and he was compelled at last to succumb. Gradually I reeled him in, and as I brought him up to the bank he turned on his side exhausted. He weighed two and three-quarter pounds and measured seventeen inches in length.
AN ANXIOUS MOMENT
I took two others, nearly as large, out of the same hole, and then proceeding down fifty yards, I saw a large cottonwood tree lying in the middle of the stream where it had lodged and been securely anchored, probably a year or two before. The current had scooped out a great cavity about its roots and I felt sure there must be a giant old trout lying amongst them, but I could not reach it with a cast from the shore. To attempt to wade to it I saw would be hazardous, for the channel between me and it was waist deep and ran with all the velocity of a mill tail. But what danger will not an enthusiastic angler brave when in pursuit of a trout? I started in, and when half way to the trunk, would gladly have retreated, but was actually afraid to attempt to turn in the midst of this current, so I pressed forward, finally reached the trunk of the tree and climbed upon it. I made a cast up near the root and hooked a handsome fellow, but after playing him until I had him completely under control and almost ready to land, the hook, which had been but slightly caught, tore out and he drifted down the river on his side.
Another effort secured a two-pounder, and failing to get any further encouragement, I climbed into the icy torrent and with great difficulty again reached the shore.
A little further down I saw another very deep pool, into which a small, green cottonwood tree had lately fallen and hung by its roots to the bank. I felt sure of making a good catch here, for the hole was ten or twelve feet deep, and the driftwood that had lodged about this tree afforded excellent cover for the wary old fellows that always seek such secluded and impregnable strongholds. The fly settled gracefully on the surface at the upper end of the pool, and as it floated listlessly down toward the drift, Westbrook, who had come down and was fishing from the bank opposite, said:
"You'll get a good one there, sir. That's a splendid hole for a big old fellow."
"I think so; but he seems backward about coming forward."
"Maybe that blasted bird has scared him," said he, referring to a coot that floated unconcernedly and even impudently about the pool, eyeing us without a symptom of fear, but evincing the liveliest curiosity as to who and what we were.