“And it wouldn’t cost you anything to get a farm here and have a house over there by Josephine Falls and its trout; where you could see wild goats on the hills and elk and moose and bears and deer in the woods beyond, and where you have a pasture ready made for your cattle?”
“Almost nothing,” replied Mr. Mackworth.
Phil looked at Frank and unseen by the others winked slowly. In boy language this meant: “Do you hear him? I’m on. I’m goin’ to come here and own Meadow Grass Valley.”
“Grizzly” Hosmer called on all to dismount, as the east side of the hill was too steep to descend mounted. Turning their horses loose the party began sliding and scrambling down the slopes. At ten o’clock, crossing the corner of Meadow Grass Valley at a smart pace, the expedition reached the timber hiding Josephine Falls.
Mr. Mackworth’s trout rigging was not purchased in Michel. As rods, creels, boots, hand nets and fly hooks were unpacked, the little camp looked like a bargain sale in a sporting goods store. Everyone was equipped (Phil with his own rod and outfit this time) and in a few moments, Jake and “Grizzly” Hosmer sat alone in camp. Phil took the stream above the Falls; Frank went a mile below; Mr. Mackworth and Lord Pelton were assigned the pools at the foot of the Falls, and Captain Ludington turned free lance.
All were to be in camp by two o’clock. Phil returned at one without a fish. Evidently they did not get above the Falls. The others came in soon after that time. Frank had eight beauties; Mr. Mackworth and Lord Pelton had caught scores and retained sixteen—all over two pounds. But Captain Ludington was the prize winner. He had nine fish and two of them weighed nearly four pounds each. Each fisherman had put back more fish than he had in his creel.
Jake’s “balsam bake” turned out to be, in reality, “steamed” trout. As soon as the colored boy saw that the party was catching fish he began digging rocks out of the bed of the stream. Two dozen of these, each as big as his head, he heated in a rousing fire. After the trout had been brought in he dressed them, leaving the heads on. Then he rolled the hot rocks into a flat foundation, apart from the fire. On this he piled a foot of the tips of new jack-pine boughs—tender, green fragrant leaves—and on these he laid the fish yet brilliant with nature’s coloring. Over these he piled another foot or more of boughs and then covered the whole with a piece of wet cloth.
The thick white odorous vapor that rolled from the damp pine boughs was ample forerunner of what was to come. In an hour and fifteen minutes the steaming oven was uncovered. Each fish lay as it came from the stream; the gold and pink tints and the “cutthroat” marks of carmine all as vivid as when the trout were caught. The fish were perfectly cooked. It did not seem much of an accomplishment but Captain Ludington’s book on the “Canadian Rockies,” which he wrote later, devotes an entire chapter to “Trout; Catching and Cooking Them.” And in his narrative, Jake’s “pine-bough steam” receives enthusiastic commendation.
Fishing was over for the day and after luncheon, the party made its way back to camp, reaching the ranch about five o’clock. The next day, it was agreed, was to be given up to hunting goats along the Hog Back. There was, therefore, a careful overhauling of the firearms. In the midst of this Frank approached Mr. Mackworth and said:
“The Loon is working perfectly. I’d like to make a little flight with you as a passenger. We’ll follow the Hog Back for a few miles and locate any stray goats loafing about there. It may help you in your hunt to-morrow.”