Mr. Dide, His Vacation in Colorado

by Lewis B. France

Close to the bank I saw a white-fish moving slowly up stream, nosing the small rocks as if he might be in search of a tid-bit to tickle a fastidious palate. His small scales were distinct, and with the sun's rays playing upon them he was the perfection of beauty in color. His dainty mouth was fairly visible, turned up to me, and his gill-covers glistened like polished silver. I took the shot from the leader and dropped the fly upon the surface about a yard in front of him, barely moving it. The water was about four feet deep and he was near the bottom. When he caught sight of the fraud, it seemed to me that I saw his eyes suddenly distend; the iris became animated and shone within a flexible circle of pale gold, as he sculled quickly to the surface and closed upon the hook. At the critical moment I gave the fatal motion of the wrist and the trim quarry was fast. The instant he felt the sting he darted, like a flash of light through a clear topaz, for the bottom and centre of the pool. His flight was a strong, steady pull, always below the surface. I would draw him up, but the moment his nostrils tasted the air, he would strive for the depths. Believing him too heavy to lift out, and the bank being too high and abrupt for me to get down to him, I permitted him to fight until he was too feeble to prevent my holding his head clear from the water. In this condition, and when I deemed a violent struggle among the possibilities merely, I drew him toward the bank, kneeled, and taking the leader in my left hand as low as I could reach, I swung him upon the grass; he came straight, without the slightest movement until he touched the ground, otherwise he would have been free. I could not but notice how firm his body felt, as I grasped him to take out the hook; there was no yielding whatever to the pressure of my hand; he might have been absolutely as solid as a stone. Then I thought of those who take it upon themselves to talk flippantly of these pieces of perfection in their way, and felt a sympathy for the grumblers in their weakness.

I placed the fish in the shade of the willows and lengthened the line again; I felt encouraged by my success and thought I might secure a trout. They had returned to their several stations, after a short respite from the recent commotion, but all that I could see, scattered as I threw them the fly, save one; he seemed indifferent and remained at his post. I cast in his vicinity several times; he finally seemed inclined to move, and I coaxed him, as I thought, though perhaps I may have incited him to anger and a determination to drive my monstrosity away. Whether rage, sudden hunger or curiosity impelled him was a matter of indifference to me; suffice it to say that he abruptly darted up and took the hitherto scouted mystery, and I fastened it directly through his tongue. My movement and his own impetus brought him clear of the water; he went back with a plunge, was up again in a few moments, shaking himself in a very paroxysm of rage and terror. Half a dozen times he rushed hither and yon, but at all times he felt the spring of the splendid toy in my hand. If he moved to the opposite shore, it checked his career and responded to his every motion, as he circled back. A straight shoot directly up stream, or down, the bamboo arched over him like the wand of fate. He would pause at times as if by contemplation he might solve the occult cause of his restraint, and thus devise an avenue of escape, but his destiny was determined. A few more struggles and he surrendered. He could not release himself; I could not free him, or I verily believe I should have bowed deferentially and requested him to retain his sword.

Even when he was so far exhausted that I could draw him toward me without resistance, I dared not attempt to lift him out as I had his predecessor. I called the Major and he came to me, held on by the willows, and slipping down the bank seized and threw the gallant champion upon the sod. It seemed like indignity to him to have him thus handled, and I told the Major so. He should have been lifted out with the net and received with a delicacy commensurate with his greatness.

The white-fish weighed one pound and a half, the trout one pound and a quarter. Caught within fifteen minutes of each other, it was a fit time to determine their qualities as warriors. The trout, of course, from the dash and brilliancy of his evolutions, must bear the palm, but the sturdy determination of his neighbor in the pool must have a share of praise. I love them both, with a little more admiration in my heart for the black-spotted denizen.

The time to fish this water when a full creel is desired quickly is when there is a slight breeze, just sufficient force in the summer air to caress the surface into a gentle ripple. I warrant me, then there will be leaping and sport that will be fast and glorious. I had read of a trick, and tried it. I found a cottonwood leaf for my purpose, and wetting it, that the fly might stick to it gently, threw it into the pool. After several trials I succeeded in getting the fly partly upon it with sufficient hold at least to guide the leaf, which I worked down to where the trout seemed more numerous. I gave the fly a gentle flirt and it fell from the novel argosy into the water; it had not floated a foot before it was seized, and I had another fight on my hands, much to the interest and amusement of the Major.

At noon Mr. Dide expressed a preference for our late camp over the present one.

"I cannot heah the wipple of the watah, you know," was his explanation.

"Then, Mr. Dide, we will move on, and make camp below the Still Water, for a few days," said the major, expressing my wishes as well. "I have a weakness for that music, myself," he continued; "as cowering upon the lofty cliff, I trembling court the wondrous depths; with eager eyes I seek the angry rush and the flashing tints of foaming waves. Borne high upon the ambient air, the solemn whispers of troubled souls and the rippling laughter of the blest reach past me, intertwined, to sink again in lamentation. Then, lying prone, my attentive ears drink in the softer sighs of the sweeping crystal, and stills all my pulse to catch the cadence of the liquid rhythm, sweet as the fading notes of some dear vesper hymn, lingering in hushed cathedral aisles."

"Bwavo! bwavo! my deah Majah! you have won my heart!" exclaimed Mr. Dide, clapping his hands, and ecstatic enthusiasm apparently exuding from his entire person. My amazement kept me silent. That the Major should indulge in "that sort of sky-scraping," as Joshua irreverently expressed it, rather weakened my friend in our chef's estimation for the time. The Major received Joshua's strictures in dignified silence, which made the latter think there was more in the Major's poetic escapade than mere words, and, like every other mystery to the average intellect, it became weighty; he requested the Major to write it down, and that is how it found a place here; I purloined the manuscript.