Mr. Dide, His Vacation in Colorado

by Lewis B. France

Immediately opposite is a perpendicular bluff of rocks two hundred feet high, or more; slight projections here and there in the face of it serve as footholds for a few hardy bushes, a cluster of wild flowers, or a matted vine; nearer the summit are dwarfed pines. The river sweeps along the foot of this wall; distilled from its near mountain springs, it is as clear as crystal, and, dashing from the shadows of the adjacent cañon, is, as Mr. Dide expresses it, "vewy cold." On the side of the river where our camp lies the valley extends very gradually up and back to the neighboring hills. The grass is bountiful and rich, and we have a cluster of young pines under which we may lounge in the heat of the day. Looking down the course of the river the valley becomes wider, and we have an open view of mountains and green slopes for miles. At our first night's camp in this secluded spot, when the fire has burned low and casts fitful shadows against the opposite cliff, we find ourselves with our feet due north as we lie in our blankets. There is a peculiar charm in the bed of fragrant twigs, with nothing to shut off our vision of the fretted roof. We may gaze out of our shadowy environment into the faces of the bright gems and hold hallowed communion with their mysteries. The liquid voices of the Naiads in their revels sweep gleefully toward me and then away again in softest cadence. The north star and the Dipper grow bright, then indistinct, then revive and grow dim again, as the gentle sprites brush my eyelids tenderly with their downy wings and soothe me into sweet forgetfulness. Some time in the night I awoke; the Dipper had moved, or rather we had moved, and the constellation was no longer in sight. The silence was broken only by the heavy breathing of my nearest companion, the Major, and the hymn from the river. As its notes rose and fell its somnolent influence took me gently in charge again. The "to-hoo—to-hoo" of an owl interrupted the spell for a moment; I saw him in my mind's eye solemnly staring into the darkness, and I was gone before he had concluded the second call.

When I awoke again it was daylight and I raised on my elbow to take in my fellows. Joshua lay rolled in his blankets under the cluster of pines. Mr. Dide looked thin and singular without his eyeglass. His nose had reached the peeling stage under the influence of the sun, and was decorated with ragged bits of skin, as if it had been caught in a shower of tattered tissue-paper. The Major, with his hat tied over his head, bore marks of the out-door life and slept like a child. I turned out quietly, as the sun crept over the hills, slanting its glad rays against the opposite cliff, and when they touched the swirling water at its foot, I put my rod together, with a coachman on the end of the leader, and walked a dozen paces to a little gravel bar.

I had never before tried the denizens of our mountain streams at so early an hour, and was doubtful of securing anything for breakfast. I sent the coachman over into the swirl and hooked a trout at once; landing him safely, I tried for the second and secured him. Just below me a few rods the river made an abrupt bend, and a great boulder there had accumulated a quantity of drift, under which was a promising pool. I tried the pool with flattering success, landing three fish, either of which would weigh half a pound. Another cast, a little nearer a log that constituted the main support of the rubbish, and a beautiful salmon-tinted trout rolled up to the fly and was caught. The water was swift, and he caused me some uneasiness by making directly for his lurking-place; if he ever reached the snags that had heretofore afforded him shelter, or the line should foul in the vibrating branches of some drift that swung in mid-stream between us, he was no longer mine. To keep him from his hiding-place I took the risk of refusing him line, merely dropping the point of the rod a little in his more violent struggles; to avoid the nearer brush I went into the water and succeeded in getting below that difficulty. I realized Mr. Dide's conclusion of the temperature, and felt that his adverb was altogether inadequate—a dead failure, in fact; it demanded adjectives in quantity and force. The water reached my knees, and I feared if it rose any higher I should be compelled to take to the bank; rubber boots afford some protection in such emergencies and temper the chill. I had only a light pair of old shoes devoted to camp use in dry weather. Having attained an advantageous position, I succeeded in coaxing his troutship completely away from danger into slower water, and learning that he was securely fastened, I had no apprehension of the result. I allowed him to fight until he was quite exhausted, and then drew him up to and upon the small bar at the edge of which I had been standing. I must weigh him, surely, then and there; and by the pocket scales he brings down the indicator to two pounds and two ounces, and, for "a red feller," he had offered more than ordinary resistance.

Lake George.

There was an abundance for breakfast, and twenty minutes had sufficed to cover the time from my leaving the camp. I gathered up my spoils, strung them on a willow twig and returned. The sleepers had not changed their attitudes, and I gave them the benefit of a morning bell after the manner of an Indian war-whoop. The Major merely opened his eyes, Mr. Dide was startled, and Joshua took in the situation calmly.

"Arise, ye sluggards, and see the result of twenty-minutes' work on the South Fork of the White!"

"I'll discount that before noon," said the major, throwing off his blankets.

While the Major and Mr. Dide made their way to the water's edge with soap and towel, Joshua appealed to me confidentially. He wanted to know why the Major had brought "that Winchester."

I suggested that he might have intended it for bear.