The three days’ vacation at Roseburg passed much too rapidly for Bill
and Bob. They would have liked to stay there for a much longer period.
Earl Simmons wanted to get back to Eugene. He liked this form of
recreation as much as either Bill or Bob, but his real interest in
life was the protection of the forests.
Each day along the Umpqua gave additional surprises to the two young
aviators. It seemed that there were no end to the things that the
oldtimers in the Northwest woods knew and the tenderfeet from San
Francisco had to learn.
The day before they returned to Eugene, they were fishing along the
river and casting out into the water from the banks. It required quite
a bit of practice before either Bill or Bob could make their dry fly
land in the water with the ease and grace of an expert fisherman.
Finally they became sufficiently adept to get occasional strikes.
Bill had been fishing a pool which was surrounded by large rocks.
Every time that he made a cast, a large fish struck at the fly.
Somehow Bill could not hook the fish. The longer this game of “catch
if you can” lasted, the more determined Bill became to land that fish.
The other members of the party watched him for a long time and then
left to fish in other places, but Bill stayed right there.
It was most discouraging not to be able to hook that trout, for from
the violence with which it came after the fly, it was sure to be a
large one. Bill finally made his best cast of the day. The fly sank
lightly onto the water and then, by slightly jerking his rod, Bill
made the fly skim across the water. That was too much for the trout.
He seized that fly and started out across the river with it. Bill
flipped the end of his rod upward to send the hook home and the
struggle was on.
The line left the reel sounding a tune which all real fishermen know
so well. It went out so rapidly that Bill wondered if he would lose
all the line before the fish stopped its run. At that stage of the
game Bill was decidedly nervous. He had never before snagged such a
fish as this one was. He knew that if he tried to stop the trout too
suddenly, the line would break. Bill applied gradually increasing
pressure on the reel until the rush was stopped.
The trout made several mad rushes after the first one, but none were
as fast nor as long as the first one. Once in a while Bill would get a
glimpse of the fish as it darted through the water, but the fish was
out of sight again almost immediately. The thought uppermost in Bill’s
mind now was, “Could he net that fish before it broke the line?” The
rushes became shorter, and it was apparent that the fish was getting
exhausted. At times it would allow Bill to bring it in almost to the
rock where he was standing, and then without the slightest warning it
would sink to the bottom of the pool with a speed that bent the rod
double while the line was going out.
The fish finally came up and Bill worked it around to where he could
use the net. In his excitement of netting the trout, he almost lost
his rod and line, but he never risked the loss of the fish. Bill was
so elated that he did not try to remove the fish from the net or the
hook from its mouth. He carried the rod, net, and fish back to the
road and waited for the other members of the party. He was still
sitting there holding the netted fish when Sam Crouch came up.
“What have you there?” asked Sam.
“You tell me,” said Bill. “I finally caught it, but what kind it is I
do not know.”
“It’s a nice big brook trout,” replied Sam. “I guess that you have the
largest one caught this day. I have several that I thought were large,
but none to compare with that one.”
The others returned and Bill felt quite proud of his accomplishment as
each in turn admired his fish. They returned to the hotel and unloaded
their fishing gear.
“You had better take this fish, Sam,” said Bill. “We leave tomorrow,
and I cannot use it.”
“Let me see that fish,” said a stranger who came up as Bill was
handing the trout to Sam. “I think that you have a gold button trout
there. We will take it into the hotel and measure and weigh it.”
“What’s a gold button trout?” asked Bill. “Do you have to pay a fine
for catching one? Is it unlawful?”
Both Sam and Earl burst out laughing at Bill’s questions.
“You poor boob,” said Earl, “that means that you have probably caught
the largest trout reported during the fishing season. The Portland
_Oregonian_ has a contest each year and gives a gold button for the
largest trout caught.”
The fish weighed seven pounds and two ounces and was twenty-six inches
long.
“My name’s Pratt,” said the stranger. “I am a reporter on the
_Oregonian_. I will send your story in to the paper and you will be
notified later if you get the gold button.”
The story of the catch was recounted and with it ended the fishing
excursion at Roseburg. Bill could not quite understand why anyone
should get a prize for going out and enjoying himself. Later in the
season he received the gold button. Two short periods of fishing in
the Oregon woods had elevated Bill from the rankest kind of an amateur
fisherman to one whose catch was broadcast all over the state.
Bob Finch left that same night by train for Eugene after vainly trying
to get Bill to agree to have both Earl and Bob ride to Eugene in the
rear cockpit. Bill settled that question when he called attention to
Earl’s rather portly figure and asked how they could both get in the
cockpit. Bill and Earl left by plane early the next morning, Earl
anxious to get back to work and Bill reluctant to leave.
“Thanks for the good time, Sam,” called Bill, and the plane started on
its homeward journey.
The rains had cleared the sky of all the dense smoke. Here and there
small fleecy clouds stood out as reminders that there had been a rain
storm, but the visibility was such that the occupants of the airplane
could see for miles in all directions. As they flew along Bill
obtained his first clear view of the high peaks which marked the crest
of the Cascade Mountains. Although these peaks were a good forty miles
away, the air was so clear that they were plainly visible. The Three
Sisters, a large, massive mountain with three peaks quite widely
separate, came into view just as they sighted Eugene. The tops of all
three of these peaks stood well above ten thousand feet. It seemed
remarkable to Bill that he had never been able to get a glimpse of
them before, as they were decidedly the most conspicuous mountains of
the entire southern part of the range.
“Well, we have another job on our hands,” said Smith when Bill
reported. “The city of Eugene wants to establish this as a municipal
airdrome. In order to do it, they are going to float a bond issue. We
are going to lend our support by having a field day here tomorrow. We
will have aerial and ground events. Dignitaries from all over the
state will be present. Among others, Governor Olcott will be here.”
“What part am I to play?” asked Bill.
“You had better go in and work that up with Maxwell,” replied Smith.
“When you have finished your draft of the events, I will go over it
and either approve or disapprove.”
“Well, here I am, Buddy,” said Bill as he sat down, by the desk in the
operations office. “Captain Smith said that I was to help you draw up
the list of events for the field day tomorrow.”
“It’s a fine time for you to be showing up after I have all the hard
work completed,” said Maxwell. “I think that I will pick out a real
job for you.”
“Go to it,” said Bill. “I have had such a good time during the past
few days that I can stand anything now.”
“Do you mean that?” asked Buddy.
“Sure I do,” replied Bill. “What have you on your mind?”
“We will go over the list of events as they appear on the program,”
said Maxwell. “In the morning the squadron baseball team will play the
local team. In addition there will be a trap-shooting competition in
which both an officers’ and enlisted men’s team will compete against
anything that the local people bring on. Then we will have an early
lunch given by the Chamber of Commerce, during which the celebrities
will tell why Eugene should have an airdrome. In the afternoon we will
have some formation flights, a radio demonstration in which someone
will broadcast from an airplane through a loudspeaker, and finally you
will jump from a parachute.”
Bill did not know whether Maxwell was joking or not. He looked at the
paper on the desk and, sure enough, the last event was for a parachute
jump. As far as Bill knew, there were no parachutes in the squadron.
The only ones that he had ever seen were those used during the war.
All balloonists were equipped with them and the crews of the German
airplanes wore them. In fact, Bill had the distinct recollection of
having seen a German plane shot down and the observer jump with his
parachute, thereby escaping with his life. To the best of Bill’s
knowledge, the only parachutes for airplanes in the United States were
those still in the experimental stage.
It looked to Bill as if Maxwell were playing a joke on him. There
would be no harm in agreeing.
“That’s all right with me,” said Bill.
“We will get Captain Smith to O. K. this and then we can arrange for
the details,” said Maxwell.
“How are you getting along?” asked Smith, who came in about that time.
“Everything is all arranged, much easier than I thought possible,”
replied Maxwell. “Here is a list of events.”
Much to Bill’s surprise, Buddy Maxwell handed the paper to Captain
Smith with the parachute jump still included. He had made no attempt
to erase that event. Perhaps they have obtained a parachute from
somewhere.
Smith went over the list and commented upon each event as he came to
it. He gave instructions as to how he wanted the details arranged.
“I want each Flight leader to lead his own Flight in the formations,”
said Smith. “I will have Liggett take the radio demonstration.”
Then he saw Bill’s name entered for the parachute jump.
“Did you volunteer for the parachute jump?” asked Smith.
Bill was caught. There was no way out now. He had told Maxwell that he
would jump, thinking that there were no parachutes. Obviously there
must be some available now, or Captain Smith would have shown some
surprise when he read the event. There was only one thing to do, and
Bill did it.
“Sure, I volunteered,” he said.
“Have you ever jumped before?” asked Smith.
“Never in my life,” replied Bill.
“That makes no difference, you have to start some time,” said Smith.
“Fortunately, Sergeant Ruhs has just arrived from Dayton with
instructions as to how the parachutes shall be worn and how you get
out of the plane with them on. You had better see him right away and
get your instructions. I approve of the schedule of events.”
So there were parachutes, and a parachute jump was going to be part of
the field day after all. Bill had never even seen one at close range.
He had never had the slightest desire to try one out, and,
furthermore, he realized that the thing he desired the least of
anything in the world was to make that jump the next day.