ON WHITE RIVER.
Two miles, about, below our camp is that part of the valley where the
Ute Indian Agency was situated a few years ago. Here it was that the
pot-bellied potentate Colorow and his horde of tatterdemalions cruelly
murdered agent Meeker, captured and carried away women and children,
and committed other unprovoked atrocities--receiving, as an inducement
for further outrages, additional government subsidies and comfort. The
soil which these "red brothers" refused to cultivate now glitters in
a garb of golden grain; they killed their best guide and friend, who
never had for them other than kind words and fatherly admonitions,
because it required work to change the product from sage brush to
wheat. If a man should undertake to harness an adult grizzly to a
plough the world would consider him weak and fail to mourn his death,
though he would be on a par with the governmental "policy" touching the
Indian. A century of failure should, it would seem, convince even a
nation that there were defective cogs in its policy wheel.
But the Major suggests that I drop the subject, unless I desire to
write a volume on a disease that I cannot cure. He says it is like any
other botch, spoiled in the beginning of its existence, and it would be
impossible now "to lick into shape."
"It is only a matter of time when our 'red brother' will cease to be,
and our disgrace will culminate at his final departure. We are out for
fish and our own reformation only."
Now that we are on the stream that we started in search of, there is
no occasion to hurry. We have with us all the necessary accessories to
comfortable housekeeping; our time is our own, and we enjoy a solid
independence of landlords, railroads or stage-coaches. A house would
be an incumbrance and finger-bowls as superfluous as a piano. Do you
know what it is to be free, absolutely oblivious to care, past or
prospective; with no apprehension touching the condition of your linen,
the set of your necktie or the volume of your trousers at the knees? If
not, go camping. The destitution of polish on your shoes and the holes
in your hat become luxurious, as you view the one through the other
while you lie on your back in the shade and pull down the "old felt" to
screen your eyes from the brilliancy of the blue roof under which you
are loafing. Each month thus invested will add six months to each year;
toward the end of your time you will realize this, and find your joints
supple to a ripe old age.
The next morning at breakfast the Major requested me to do the fishing
for the day's supply; he desired to go prospecting:
"You have not wet a line since we started; you had an opportunity
at Elk Creek and here, also, last night. I thought you were fond of
angling?"
"So I am, but catching fish does not constitute my view of angling;
it is only one of the pleasures that awaits in the vestibule of the
temple. A beautiful attendant merely who induces us into the inner
sanctuary."
"We'll shake hands on that, my boy," exclaimed the Major.
Joshua, who ate with us at our solicitation, stopped his cup of coffee
half way to his mouth and stared at me.
"I'll get a gunny-sack full, if you want 'em, Major,--can do it in half
a day," said Joshua, sipping his coffee.
"We would rather you did nothing of the sort, Mr. Miles," and the
Major's manner was somewhat testy; "we could make no use of them--the
time of plenty is the time to save--you've heard that before, no doubt,
or something like it?"
"Oh, yes, I've heard mother say that many a time."
"I thought so--a mother's advice is always good, and you can apply it
to fish and other game."
"All right, just as you say."
The Major started off to the hills with his Winchester. Joshua
concluded he would stay around camp and "square things up." One of the
horses had stepped on the new coffee-mill and ruined it, and he must
look out for another. The principal feature of the new coffee-mill
was a piece of clean board about a foot square; the other part of
the complication consisted of a tin can. He placed the coffee on the
board and rolled it fine with the can: the board, being the important
part, in the absence of carpenter shops and sawmills, was the portion
fractured, of course.
I put my rod together and adjusted the reel. The leader and flies had
been in soak for an hour and were in good condition; I had selected
a coachman, a red-bodied gray hackle and a brown cofflin to test in
prolific water a theory of mine. The White River in the fifty or
more miles we experimented is the ideal of a trout stream. From our
camping-place for thirty and odd miles to the cañon of the South Fork
is a series of riffles, deep swirls under bushy banks, pools and
comparatively still reaches. The willows and other shrubs are so thick
that the opportunity for casting from the shore is happily exceptional.
There is no satisfactory alternative but to pursue the best method.
The stones are clean beyond those in any stream which I ever waded,
and the prospect of a wetting from smooth rubber boots and rocks a
remote possibility. To avoid the places too deep to wade, crossing and
recrossing the riffles becomes a necessity; these opportunities seem to
lie at such convenient and appropriate distances that admiration for
the skill of the Designer is irresistible; one takes to the dancing
crystal with a love for it, and a reverence for its Presiding Genius.
There is a feeling of exultation as one enters and stands solitary in
mid-stream and looks down the flashing current; the surging of the
water, as it takes his limbs into its cool embrace, whispers a greeting
of welcome; hid by the growth upon either side one feels no longer
alone, the water-sprites are with him in loving communion and sympathy.
So standing and happily surrounded, I commissioned the gray hackle, at
the end of my leader, to ascertain what might be lurking in the shade
of the opposite bank, where the current was swift and the water four
feet deep, at least. It was taken at once, and inside of five minutes
I had a trout of a pound's weight safe in the landing-net. As soon as
possible after hooking him, I had drawn away from his hiding-place and
coaxed him into shallower and quieter water, so that his neighbors, if
he had any, might not be disturbed. After placing him in the creel, I
changed the hackle for the coachman and it was taken as readily, the
fish being a mate to the first. A third cast resulted in a failure,
a fourth brought a rise, a little more line and at the fifth the fly
alighted in the acceptable spot, and was taken by a still larger fish.
Changing the coachman for the cofflin, I waded down, close under the
bushes of the right bank, crossed a riffle and dropped the fly just
where the water slowed up a little, at the foot. It had scarcely
touched the surface when I saw the gaping jaws of an apparent
leviathan close upon it; at the same instant I struck and the bamboo
bent to its work. A leap clear from the water advised me that I had one
of the lighter-colored variety and consequently more of a fight on my
hands. Five minutes, however, at a guess, sufficed to bring him into
the net. He weighed, an hour afterward by my pocket scales, a scant one
and three quarter pounds. I lengthened the line a little and brought
out another of nearly a pound. If the trout were to keep up to these
weights, for only a little while, there would be waste in camp, and I
wished for a few smaller. But they did not come to me; either of the
next three would weigh three-fourths of a pound, and going back to the
slight opening in the brush, through which I entered, I climbed out and
returned to camp.
Joshua received the creel and examined its contents.
"You and the Major seem to have the same notions; I thought you would
fill up that basket and string a lot on a willer."
"There are quite eight pounds,--sufficient for two meals."
"Yes, I know, but how do you manage to stop? When the fish bite that
way I want to catch 'em." Thereupon I read a homily to Joshua on the
art of angling, at the conclusion of which he said he understood what I
had told the Major in the morning about the "inner sanctuary."
[Illustration: SILVERY CASCADE.]
"That is, I have an idea about it--mebbe I'll try it some day; but
this is such a dog-on hard world to get along in and buy shoes for the
baby! I'm afraid I can't get into your way--a fellow can't live on
scenery, you know, and 'tain't easy for old dogs to learn new tricks.
But I'll try and not make a trout hog of myself, as you call it,
anyway--I think I can manage that much."
He went off with my fish and creel toward the river, singing, and I
flattered myself on having made a partial convert.
Just before noon the Major returned, warm and tired, and sought solace
of his pipe. He brought with him two willow grouse with their heads
shot off. He had found a coal mine in the bluffs above us, near the
town, and had discovered other flattering indications of future wealth
for those inclined to pick them up. He had also started two deer,
"within fifty yards," during his tramp.
"Where are they?" inquired Joshua.
"Over in those hills, I presume," answered the Major, with a nod toward
the supposed locality.
"Why! didn't you kill nary one?"
"Nary one."
"Well, I swan--what's the good of carrying a rifle?"
"What's the good of killing what you don't need?"
"Gentlemen, excuse me, I don't mean any offence, but I'm durned if you
ain't the queerest pair of cranks in the huntin' and fishin' way, I
ever see. I don't know, but mebbe you're right about it, still I can't
get it through my hair. Of course, I don't believe in wastin' meat,
_but_, I'd a--_had_ to shot them deer."
"Mr. Miles, you ought to live where there is one deer to a township and
a trout to a mile of water--you'd change your mind and want to hang the
man who talked as you do."
"How'll you have the grouse cooked, Major--stewed or fried?"
"Either way."
Joshua served them up to us roasted, and they were delicious.
Loitering by the road later in the afternoon I saw the coach on the
opposite side of the river, before it came down into the bottom-land.
There was a passenger on the box with an umbrella. I waited and
recognized Mr. Dide, who had added a fishing-rod to his luggage.
"Weally!--dwivah, stop a moment. I am delighted to see you; do you live
in the vicinity?"
I informed him that the camp was just below, and we should be pleased
to have him call.
"Chawming--thanks; I shall be delighted to drop in."
He did so, just before supper, very much to the astonishment of Joshua
and the surprise of the Major. I had forgotten to apprise my friend of
the new arrival and of the invitation I had extended. I also confessed
a little wonder to myself at the gentleman's prompt fulfilment of his
promise, but was none the less gratified.
"I have heard" (it is impossible to spell the word as he pronounced
it) "of Meekah, you know, and the twouting, and thought it would be
quite novel to wun ovah. The wide was not vewy inviting, but this is
chawming--think so?"
Mr. Dide was so truly delighted with the novelty of his experience,
and so full of anxiety to make it known, that he was permitted to run
on without interruption. Hitherto he had seemed reticent, now he was
overflowing in the opposite direction.
"I've nevah twouted, you know, but I shall twy. I bought a pole and
some widiculous-looking flies."
The Major suggested that I knew something about the sport, and would,
no doubt, assist him in gratifying his ambition. Of course I would, and
did. My office of mentor was not devoid of pleasant incidents. He was
to call in the morning, with his tackle, and did so immediately after
breakfast. He was not prepared to wade, and I borrowed the Major's
boots without leave. The rod was a cheap specimen of ash and lancewood,
and the dealer had been fair with him in the matter of line, leaders
and flies. The Major will bring down the scales at two hundred, Mr.
Dide at one hundred and twenty-five pounds, at a guess; in the Major's
boots Mr. Dide, I must confess, appeared at a disadvantage. I adjusted
his tackle, even to the winding of the line on the little brass reel
above the grip, and led the way to the scene of my own recent exploits.
Mr. Dide, upon entering the water, affirmed that it was cold; there was
no gainsaying his assertion. He expressed a doubt of his ability to
keep his feet, and I endeavored to assist him. He tossed his fly in the
direction I suggested, allowed the point of the rod to drop and the fly
floated at the edge of the swirl. I admonished him to hold his rod up;
at the same instant a trout hooked himself, the little reel spun round
and Mr. Dide exclaimed in great exultation:
"I have got him! I have got him!"
"But you will not keep him long, Mr. Dide, if you do not check the
line."
"Aw--but I cawn't, you know--oblige me!" and he held out his umbrella
toward me. The trout in the meantime was having his own way; the line
was fast disappearing from the reel; suddenly it slacked, his troutship
was returning, and rapidly. I supported Mr. Dide by seizing the back of
his collar with one hand and relieved him of the umbrella, directing
him to reel in the line. The fish was without doubt fatally hooked.
Mr. Dide, laboring at the crank with a vigor that would have given a
hundred revolutions a second to an ordinary grindstone, succeeded in
retrieving the slack. As he did so the fish gave a leap half out of the
water, and a struggle that brought the butt of the rod in contact with
the fisherman's stomach. Something snapped--it was the tip. Still the
hook held, the line could be trusted; if the leader and snell proved
true the fish might yet be saved. I directed Mr. Dide to give no more
line, but simply to hold the remains of his rod firmly and to stand
still, if he could. He endeavored to follow instructions, and I took
up my station a little lower down and to one side in shallower water,
watching the brave exertions of the quarry to free itself. I bethought
me that the umbrella, in the absence of my landing-net, might be put to
profitable use. As the fish came my way I suddenly scooped him up from
behind, together with an umbrella nearly full of water; the trout went
over the edge some time before I could empty the novel device.
"That's the most extwaawdinawy pwoceeding I evah witnessed!" exclaimed
Mr. Dide.
Certainly it was beyond anything in my own experience. I concluded
that the only way to save the fish was to get to the bank. Mr. Dide
declined my offer to take his rod, for which I commended him, but he
was doubtful of his ability to stem the current and manage his tackle
without my assistance, so I led him ashore and he dragged the trout.
Seizing my opportunity, when the nearly exhausted victim was quiet, I
lifted him out by the leader. He had hooked himself through the tongue,
and so deeply that, notwithstanding his struggles, the wound was but
little enlarged, and the use of a knife was required to release him.
Mr. Dide was so much delighted at his success that the damage to his
rod was a matter of little importance. He would have continued to fish
with the remains of it, but that I convinced him of the impossibility
of casting a fly without a tip. He returned to camp and soon came back
with the extra one. I concluded to prospect for openings in the brush.
Having found one with a promising little eddy below it, I indicated
the best place, in my judgment, at which the fly should be delivered.
Mr. Dide undertook the feat and the fly caught in the willows behind
him. I released it and the next effort resulted in a good hold upon
the umbrella, which the gentleman insisted upon keeping over his head.
I was constrained to advise him that the umbrella would better be put
aside; he surrendered it to me hesitatingly, as if he might be at a
loss without it. He splashed the fly into the water within a rod of
the place I had suggested, but that was of no importance; a trout took
it in a moment and in the next was flying high in air and eventually
became entangled in the brush. I wondered whether first efforts were
ordinarily attended with the results I had witnessed, or whether my
_protégé_ were specially skilled in awkwardness. After he had placed me
and my apparel in jeopardy several times I took the rod and endeavored
to show him how to make a cast; then I did not blame him so much. But
he felt encouraged, and I betook myself to camp, leaving him to work
out his own salvation. He came back before noon with the two trout; his
rod was broken again and he was very wet, having evidently been up to
his neck in water.
[Illustration: SEVEN CASTLES.]