Such merry times as Sammy and his companions had chasing each other up
and down the stream, leaping the waterfall, jumping over the rocks,
and playing hide-and-seek in the shallows. Then there was always the
excitement of watching for the flies and different insects that
hovered near, and which made delicious meals when caught. The young
salmon used to boast of the flies they had captured, just as boys and
men do of their luck in fishing.

But our hero soon grew tired of this quiet life. It seemed very stupid
and humdrum when compared with Aunt Sheen's marvelous tales of the
great ocean, and the strange sights and thrilling adventures that
there awaited the voyager. He was larger than his brothers and
sisters, his sea-going instinct was strong within him, he longed for
the wonders of the great, unknown world, and grew tired of Aunt
Sheen's repeated warnings.

This old fish always professed to be entirely uninterested in the
doings of her youthful relatives. It was a matter of creed with her.
But in spite of this fact she was very fussy over the young fish, and
gave them a great deal of what Sammy considered tiresome advice.

"There is safety in numbers," was her favorite saying. "When you want
to go on a journey wait until your companions are ready, and go in a
school. Dreadful things always happen to young fish if they start out
by themselves, they get eaten by sharks, or caught by those awful
two-legged monsters on land, and the devil-fish is always on the
lookout for them."

"But," Sammy would protest, "you have always said that some of the
most terrible experiences you ever had came when you were with a lot