sun felt so good and it was so pleasant to lounge under a pine. One of
the blessings of outdoor life was that a man could be like an Indian
and do nothing. So from rest I passed to dreams and from dreams to
sleep.

In the afternoon R.C. and I went out again to try for trout. The lake
appeared to be getting thicker with that floating muck and we could
not raise a fish. Then we tried the outlet again. Here the current
was swift. I found a place between two willow banks where trout were
breaking on the surface. It took a long cast for me, but about every
tenth attempt I would get a fly over the right place and raise a fish.
They were small, but that did not detract from my gratification. The
light on the water was just right for me to see the trout rise, and
that was a beautiful sight as well as a distinct advantage. I had
caught four when a shout from R.C. called me quickly down stream. I
found him standing in the middle of a swift chute with his rod bent
double and a long line out.

"Got a whale!" he yelled. "See him--down there--in that white water.
See him flash red!... Go down there and land him for me. Hurry! He's
got all the line!"

I ran below to an open place in the willows. Here the stream was
shallow and very swift. In the white water I caught a flashing gleam
of red. Then I saw the shine of the leader. But I could not reach it
without wading in. When I did this the trout lunged out. He looked
crimson and silver. I could have put my fist in his mouth.

"Grab the leader! Yank him out!" yelled R.C. in desperation. "There!
He's got all the line."