ii3»srve St r,i^^ THIS COPY OF "salmon PISHING ON THE GRAND CASCAPEDIA" IS ONE OF AN EDITION OF ONE HUNDRED COPIES PRINTED ON IMPERIAL JAPAN PAPER, DURING MAY NINETEEN HUNDRED AND FOUR, AND IS NO. / O O SALMON-FISHINa ON THE GRAND CASCAPEDIA A Favorite Place SALMON-FISHING ON THE GRAND CASCAPEDIA EDMUND W." DAYIS PRINTED EOR PRIVATE DISTRIBUTION 1904 i Cr," '5-"' '^ UBR*«V n« CONGRESS Two Conies Received JUN 17 1904 CiDyrieni Entry OLASS ^ XXo. No. COPY A Copyriglit, 1904, by Edmund W. Davis TO MY WIFE WHOSE GENTLENESS AND SWEET MANNER ADD CHARM TO THE CAMP CONTENTS PAGE Salmon-fishing on the Grand Cascapedia ... 3 The River . . . . . . . 6 The Rod 10 The Reel 13 The Line 15 The Flies 17 The Leaders, or Casts 25 The Clothes 28 The Casting 31 The Fishing 42 Hooking the Salmon ....... 55 Changing Flies 60 The Weather . 67 The Logs 71 The Salmon .78 The Runs and Varieties 83 The Rises 86 Do Salmon Hear? 90 The Kelts 95 The Rocks 97 vii PAGE A Trip to Red Camp 99 The Second Day 112 The Third Day 128 The Fourth Day 138 Three Weeks Later 141 The Club Water 146 Conclusion 152 viu LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS A Favorite Place . . . . . . Frontispiece Running down from Lazy Bogan . Facing page 8 Killing a Salmon at Lazy Bogan . . , .10 Flies 18 Flies 20 Flies 22 Limestone Pool . . . . . . . .32 Lower Part of Limestone 52 Her First Forty-four-pound Salmon . . . .76 The Fifty-two-pound Salmon . . . . . 78 Red Camp 100 Gruarding Salmon 102 Our Canoemen 106 Suffolk Mixer 114 Two Days' Fishing 124 The Caseapedia Club-house in the Distance . . 128 Red Camp Pool 136 Harrison, the River-goddess, and William . . 142 The Slide. . . 150 ix SALMON-FISHING SALMON-FISHINa ON THE GRAND CASCAPEDIA HAVE been asked so many times to write my experience as regards salmon- fishing that perhaps these few lines may be of benefit to friends who are learning the grand art, and of some interest to those who are already accomplished in it — for an art it surely is. I advise all who intend taking up salmon-fishing to read Dr. Weir Mitchell's book, " When All the Woods Are G-reen." It is a delightful story, and has a chapter or two on salmon-killing. But as all of us may not have a companion so charming on our fishing trips as the hero of this book, we will content ourselves here with the killing of the fish. The part of the book which appeals to me most strongly is the dedication : THE FRIEND OP MANY YEARS, — THE COMPANION OF MANY SUMMERS. Who but a lover of nature and a keen sportsman would have thought of the few words so lovingly 3 expressed — "The Companion of Many Summers"! Surely they must have reminded him of the days and nights they had passed together on some grand old river in the forests of Canada — the shooting of the rapids, the camp-fires at night, the life in the woods, all of which go to make up that indescribable something which all true sportsmen love. I have often thought, as I stood by my camp- fire and gazed at the stars through the clear atmo- sphere of the Northern skies, how few persons there are who know the great happiness there is in the solitude of a life in the wilderness. Here one sees the swift, icy brooks tumbling down from the lakes which lie amid the green-clad hills stretch- ing far away to the north — the little brooks which are torrents in spring, and go to make up the mighty Cascapedia, far-famed for its lordly salmon. They, too, love the river; for do they not come each year and go far to the head waters to seek the quiet pools whose banks are lined with the sweet-scented linnsea, where undisturbed they can whisper to each other their tales of love ? I remember one day, as I was going up the river to take my turn at certain pools, I saw the doctor sitting in his canoe, reading a book. As I ap- proached him he shouted : " Hello, Davis ! Any luck?" I told him I had not fished, but was on my way to Middle Camp. " I hope you have had some sport 1 " 4 " No," he replied ; " it is too clear. Am waiting till later in the day. But what does it matter 1 Is it not grand out on the river ? Look at the leaves on the trees — how they glisten ! What beautiful shades ! One never gets tired here ; there is so much to see. How peaceful and restful it all seems ! " And he, though getting no salmon, was content passing his time in studying the life of the forest and the different objects about him, all of which help to form the true angler. My advice to all is to follow in his footsteps. THE EIVER iAR away in the wilderness of Quebec lies a still and placid sheet of water whose surface is often disturbed by salmon fortunate in having reached this quiet and peaceful resting-place. A stream named the Lake Branch flows from this lake a dis- tance of eighteen miles before joining its com- panion (the Salmon Branch), whose source is many miles farther north. The meeting of these two waters is the beginning of the Cascapedia, but as it rushes onward to the sea many cold little brooks add their tribute. At the junction of these branches is the celebrated pool called " The Forks " ; here, in July, one can usually see many salmon resting. From this same pool, after two o'clock in the day, I beached fourteen fish, keeping only five of the largest : the rest, after my man had removed the hook, were held under water with their heads up-stream until they were able to resist the current ; then a slight poke in the side sent them darting away as lively as when rushing 6 for the fly. These salmon were from sixteen to thirty-five pounds in weight. A short distance below " The Forks " the river forms another good pool where one is sure of many rises. "Lazy Bogan" — perhaps the most famous part of the river — is a narrow stretch flowing through a flat country, and a fine place for salmon. One day on this water, casting from the shore, I took thirteen fish, returning seven. But I do not consider it much sport to kill salmon in these pools. The river is narrow; it is their breeding-ground: and here they should be left undisturbed. The Cascapedia Club, which controls the rights with the exception of about fifteen miles from the mouth, now very wisely prohibits fishing on this part, keeping it entirely for breeding purposes. After leaving Lazy Bogan the country becomes more interesting, and as you approach Indian Falls the river, running swiftly, forms large, deep pools; huge mountains rising from the water's edge make the scenery most picturesque. There is a bit of danger while running the falls, owing to the many sunken rocks just below the surface whose tops are invisible ; but with good canoe- men one usually passes in safety. From the falls down to the settlement is one continuous panorama of beautiful scenes ; and the river, having such a tremendous drop from its source to the mouth, is 7 one of the swiftest and most interesting in all Canada to the angler. The Cascapedia Club-house, situated on a knoll surrounded by mountains, is most charmingly located. From the piazza there is a delightful view of the country, and salmon may be seen leaping in the pools below. Opposite is the Escu- minac, a small river flowing into the Cascapedia. Formerly it contained many salmon, but saw- mills, nets, and spears have done their work of extermination, and now it is impossible for a fish to run up the stream, owing to a dam having been built across. Eight miles above the club-house is a three-rod station, and at sixteen miles accommodation for two ; so the few members are not crowded in their fishing. From the club-house to the second sta- tion is one wild, magnificent sight: high moun- tains, long stretches of swiftly running water ter- minating in dark pools, the rapids, and the sweet little flowers nestling at the water's edge, make a picture of loveliness which is most beautiful and dear to the angler. Among the few fishing lodges scattered along the banks of the remaining part of the river is the Princess Louise Cottage, now owned by Mr. Barnes, of Boston, who controls some very good water, including a part of the celebrated Princess Pool. The river is well guarded, and if protection 8 EUNNING DOWN PROM LAZY BOGAN is continued the number of salmon should increase yearly. May their numbers never be less ! For thirteen summers the Grand Cascapedia has been my home. Each year it grows dearer and dearer, and my only thought during the long winter months shall always be, " Will spring ever come, so that I may again visit this restful home in the Northern woods 1 " Such a beautiful country is not an accident. Grod must have cre- ated this wonderful wilderness, where all is happi- ness, where all is peace. THE ROD TAPERING- piece of wood as delicate in appearance and bending as easily as some tall, slight reed gently swayed by the winds. No wonder we love to ca- ress and fondle it, for has it not proved a stanch and true friend on many trying occasions f In selecting a rod, please bear in mind that I am suggesting one for Canadian rivers only. For fishing the waters of Ireland and Scotland a longer and stiffer rod is required, as I believe most of the casting is from the shore; but not having had any personal experience on these rivers, I am not prepared to offer any advice. For my own fishing I prefer fifteen feet of the best greenheart, spliced at the centre only. The tip should be a little stiffer and the butt a trifle smaller than one usually sees in a salmon-rod. If the rod is prop- erly made it will bend like a piece of steel from butt to tip while playing the salmon. Notice how beautifully it bends backward and forward when you make the cast — no doubling of the tip, only a slight curve as the line is thrown back ; then, by a quick and gentle turn of the wrists, it springs for- 10 Killing a Salmon at Lazy Bogan (In this picture I have lowered my rod and am pulling side- ways at the fish. A good way to turn a sulking salmon.) ^ j*^'^ ward, sending the line straight as an arrow, while the fly, falling softly, alights like a snowflake on the water. With a rod of this description one can lift his line much easier, with less exertion, and has better control. Dalzell, of St. John, New Bruns- wick, is a good workman, and turns these rods out well. Of course there is difference of opinion; but I have had greater pleasure with a rod of this kind than with many another I have tried. When the water is high and one is not obliged to be too particular as regards his casts, almost any rod will answer; but in low, clear water, when the wily old kings are shy and it is hard to entice them, then the best weapon is required. Some prefer a light rod and others a heavy one, but the principle should be the same in both. The Forrest rod, made in Scotland, is very pop- ular among American anglers, although I find it too supple at the tip and too stiff at the butt. The split bamboo has found favor in the eyes of many, but my experience with it has not been satisfactory. I know a little woman — and a clever angler, too — who may be seen every year, during the months of June and July, casting her fly as gracefully and killing her fish as quickly with her little cane rod as any old veteran of the sport, and I am told this same rod has to its credit a hundred or more salmon. Of course, nothing pleases this little lady but the split bamboo. 11 When fishing from a canoe, a fifteen-foot rod is long enough — even fourteen feet will answer, but I do not advise using one of a shorter length, be- cause with a very short rod you have no control of either fish or line. I have tried one of ten feet, but it gave me no sport, for I was continually chasing the fish up and down the river before tir- ing him sufficiently for the gaff. I have heard of salmon being taken on a six- ounce trout-rod, and the reel holding no more than twenty-five yards of line. It sounds like a fairy tale, but any one who can throw a good fly and is fortunate enough to have the salmon remain in the same pool can easily accomplish the feat ; however, should the fish decide to go back to his beautiful sea, he is likely to carry everything with him. As this style of angling is a question of luck rather than of skill, I do not think it should be practised by the salmon-angler. 12 THE REEL 'HIS piece of workmansliip is dear to all anglers ; for does it not day after day merrily sing its melodious songs ? And the louder it sings the sweeter its notes, for we know then that its welcome voice will soon cease, having lulled to sleep one of the wakeful spirits of the deep. One cannot be too particular concerning the reel. It should be large enough to hold seventy yards of good, strong bass-line and fifty yards of salmon- line, which must be spliced with the bass-line. I use the Vom Hofe^ reels only, as I have always found them to keep in excellent running order, and in many years of fishing I have never had an. over-run. Should a salmon, rushing down the rapids, suddenly stop, and an over-run take place, good-by, Mr. Salmon ! if he is seized again with the same desire to continue his mad career. One good feature about the reel is, you can alter the tension of the drag ; and when small flies are used 1 Edward Vom Hof e, Fulton Street, New York. 13 it is better to do this, for with a lighter tension the fly is less liable to pull out, and that would be disappointing. The reel should be held by a plate fastened to the rod not more than six or six and a half inches from the lower end of the butt. If it is placed any higher, one would be obliged to reach farther to grasp the rod above the reel. This would naturally cause the body to bend forward, making an awkward position for the angler and at the same time tiring the right arm. The reel, when casting, should be beneath the rod, with the handle to the left, for in this position it balances the rod better ; but when playing the fish always reverse the position, bringing the reel on top of the rod, with the handle to the right. There are many good salmon-reels of different makes and of a much cheaper grade than the one above mentioned. As I see many anglers using them, they evidently answer the purpose ; but not having tried any, I can only vouch for the Vom Hofe. One should always have the reel well filled, as it runs much better ; and do not fail occasionally to put a drop or two of oil on the bearing; by so doing the reel will last longer and give better satisfaction. Above all things, keep the reel clean ; a dirty reel reflects upon the angler as a rusty gun on the sportsman. 14 THE LINE 'HE line should be, as I have just said, one hundred and twenty yards in total length. One may use the whole sal- mon-line, but this is unnecessary, as the one for bass does just as well to help fill up the reel ; besides, it has not so much resistance in the water. When the river is high, any dark-colored salmon-line of medium size will do, either tapered or not, as one prefers. My experience has been that both cast equally well. In low, clear water I am confident one will be more successful using a small black line, as it attracts less attention than one of lighter color, and is not so apt to disturb the fish. This is a much-disputed question among anglers, but as I have been very successful with the small black line, I certainly should advise its use. It is rather difficult to see while playing the fish as they dart toward the shore in the shade of the trees, and especially when fishing at night; but one should be able to forgive this fault if it brings better success. 15 I have seen salmon killed late in the season with a line almost white and large enough to kill a codfish. This will sometimes happen, but I am quite sure the person who accomplished the feat was born under a lucky star. I beg my friends not to try it ; it is not clean fishing, it is not correct fishing. I have also seen a person fishing salmon with a book in one hand, an umbrella over the shoulders, and the rod resting on the knees, evidently waiting for a nibble ; strange to say, the nibble came, the salmon was hooked and killed. This happened in one of my best pools, and pre- vious to the landing of this eccentric fish the pool had been whipped by a person well up in the art without any result. It only goes to show that sometimes salmon have whims, like ourselves: you coax them, and they won't ; let them alone, and they will. When you have finished the day's fishing, always dry the line. This prevents its heating and will make it last longer. Do not wind it around metal, as this is liable to crack the enamel and weaken the line in spots. Large round wooden pegs are the best. Once I lost thirty feet of new line — and with it a large salmon — by leaving it to dry overnight on a rusty nail ; I have since become wiser. 16 THE I^LIES 'EffiSE beautiful specimens of crafts- man's art, composed of feathers brought from the jungles of India and the deep forests of the tropics, are no doubt the most important part of our out- fit. How seductive these little feathers, both gaudy and sombre, must be as they are drawn across the pool to lead to destruction the wise old fellows resting so quietly beneath ! Indeed, they are equally seductive to us — for do we not, as we are about to leave the shop (having said good-by to them), hesitate, and return to gaze fondly again upon their beauty ? We buy more, when we do not need them ; like the salmon, we have gazed once too often and are taken at last. This fate always happens to me — and I suppose I shall continue, year after year, to be led astray by the spell of these fascinating and hypnotic allurements. When buying your flies, be sure that the point of the hook is nearly upright. If it inclines too much toward the shank, as many do, and espe- cially the No. 4 and No. 6 double, it will not hook the fish as well, and is more liable to tear out. It 17 is a good plan to bend the small-size hooks a little so the points will turn out ; I find by so doing fewer fish are lost. The files made by Forrest & Sons, Kelso, Scot- land, are generally used, and it is best to import them direct from their house. They are beautifully tied, and we seldom hear of the hook pulling out. I have seen this happen, but not often ; in one in- stance, when a friend of mine was playing a very large fish, the line suddenly came back with only the loop attached to the leader. It would be very annoying to have it occur just as you are playing the largest salmon you have ever seen ; but some- times accidents will happen, however careful one may be. Always examine closely the loop before attaching the fly to the leader, especially if the fly has been used for some time, for by continued use the loop becomes frail and the fish is apt to break away. I have taken many fish which would have been lost had I not first carefully examined my leader and fly. It is a very simple thing to do, and requires only a little time; yet how many anglers there are who neglect to take this precaution, but leave the work for others ! The flies generally used are the Jock Scott, Sil- ver Gray, Silver Doctor, Black Dose, Dusty Miller, and Silver Jock Scott.^ These are the standard 1 The lower part of the body of the Silver Jock Scott is covered with silver tinsel ; otherwise the Jock Scott and the Silver Jock Scott are identical. 18 Silver Doctor 6/0 Silver Doctor JSTo. 6 double Silver Gray 6/0 Silver Gray No. 6 double Note The flies on the following plates are not facsimiles of the samples, inasmuch as they show different tints at the end of some of the feathers. This is owing to me- chanical difficulties of the three-color process, and can- not, I am told, he avoided. Otherwise they are good representations. The Hariison fly should be gray in- stead of a brownish color. ^tj*Iq satwollol 9di no sain .1) liaiiiWwitl u Iti ii«oJa it flies, and are good on all Canadian waters. There are innumerable varieties, but the above are quite necessary for one's outfit. It is well to have a large assortment, because when the water is low salmon will very seldom in the daytime take the same fly which they will rise to when the river is high and muddy; so one should always have on hand different sizes of the above. I have had very little success with those smaller than No. 6 double. Although I have taken salmon with No. 8, 1 do not consider them practical ; they tear out easily and only hurt and lose flsh. I am now referring to the Cascapedia, where the salmon run very large. On rivers where the fish are smaller the No. 8 double is used successfully ; but I believe the No. 6 to be quite small enough, if properly landed in the pool. My observation has convinced me that a medium- sized fly when cast by an expert angler is more kill- ing than a smaller fly cast by the same person. To illustrate my theory: Many years ago I was fishing a famous pool on the Cascapedia ; it was late in the season ; as the water was low and clear, I used a very small fly. I noticed that one of the canoemen was watching my casts most intently, and as I kept pegging away until nearly exhausted, without any success, he finally remarked: "I think that if you use a larger fly and cast it better, you will get a fish." This remark made me a little weary, because I thought I was doing splendidly, and to be con- 19 sidered a duffer, as he evidently thought me, was most humiliating. I immediately handed the rod to him, and said : " Now show me what you can do." His eyes brightened, his lips parted, and the most satisfied grin I have ever seen appeared on his face. He at once cut off the fly as well as the loop at the end of the leader, pulled from his hat a fly, — one of his own make, a little larger but of the same pattern I had been using, — and fastened it to the leader by a process which I had not then learned, but will explain later. Before casting he allowed the line to drift down the river until it had straight- ened itself; then up went his arms, the rod bending gently backward and throwing the line in a perfect curve, when suddenly, with a quick turn of the wrists, the rod sprang forward, sending the fly diag- onally across the pool. It fell so softly that it hardly touched the water — then a whirl, a splash, a strike. "I 've got him!" he shouted. "I told you so ! Take the rod," he said, " No, thanks ; you play him," I replied. His contented little grin at once changed into one of the most fiendish. There was a fierce struggle, the fish was killed in a short time, and as he turned toward me the little grin reappeared, so I knew he was happy. I was humiliated, but it really gave me greater pleasure to see him hook and kill that fish than to have accomplished the feat myself. His knowledge of the manner in which to place the 20 Silver Jock Scott 4/0 Jock Scott 4/0 Black Dose 2/0 Dusty Miller 1/0 fly so as to tempt the fish was what gave him suc- cess, and such knowledge can be acquired only by close observation. Here are the names and sizes of the flies I always try to have with me. QUANTITY NO. NAME 3 . . 6/0 . Silver Gray, Single Hook 3 . . 5/0 . U li 3 . . 4/0 . U li 3 . . 3/0 . a u 3 . . 2/0 . U 11 3 . . 1/0 . (I (I 3 . 1 . li a 6 . . 1/0 . . Black Dose 6 . . 1 a 11 3 . 5/0 . Steuart 3 . 4/0 . ii 3 . 1/0 . . Dusty Miller i 3 . 1 a a 3 . 3/0 . Jock Scott I i 8 . 2/0 . a a I 3 . . 1/0 . li li 11 a 3 . 4/0 . . Silver Jock Scott, Single Hook 3 . 2/0 . U li ii it ii 3 . 1/0 . ii 11 11 ii 11 6 . 3 . Silver Gray, Double Hook 6 . 4 . li a li 11 6 . 6 ii ii ii li 6 . 3 Dusty Miller " " 6 . 4 a li a a 6 . 6 . a a a ii 6 . 3 Jock Scott " " 6 . 4 li 11 11 ii 6 . 6 11 li ii 11 6 . 2 . Black Dose " " 6 . 3 li ii a 11 6 . 4 , 11 ii u a 6 . 6 U il li il 6 . . 4 . . Tim Fly " " 6 . . 6 . . (< a li il 21 I have never been very successful with the Silver Doctor, although my friends have taken many fish with it ; I suppose the reason is, I seldom use it, pre- ferring the Silver Grray. I have killed some fish at night with a Silver Doctor, when the river was very muddy and high, as well as when it was low and clear ; but the Silver Gray I consider a much more killing fly. I have found a 4/0 white fly with a silver body, a golden pheasant's crest feather for the crest and tail, and a very small feather of the jungle-cock added to the wing, to be a good one at night. It is called the Steuart. The Tim fly, Nos. 4 and 6 double, with silver tinsel on black body, dark brown wings, a small feather of the jungle-cock, and the tail a crest feather of the golden pheasant, is excellent for low water. The above were made according to my own idea, and may be obtained from Forrest & Sons. The Nepisiguit Gray, No. 4 double, did good work for one season — since then I have never taken a fish with it; the Brown and Black Fairies are used by many : and so I might add a number of vari- eties; however, I shall leave them for the angler to discover as he progresses in the art. There are always a few feathers, a little wax, and some black and white thread in my fly-book, because I like to try to imitate the flies which I see floating down the river. By roughly adding a few feathers to the body of some worn-out Forrest I 22 *Steuart 4/0 Hakrison 3/0 Tim Fly No. 6 double Black Dose No. 4 double *Steuart No. 3 double Brown Fairy No. 8 double * These flies should have had silver bodies. i>\i^,.i:iij^m: u am able to make a rough imitation, and with a non- descript of this kind I have had good sport. Then again, there is satisfaction in knowing they will take one of your own make. It is amusing, and for me it adds much to the pleasure of fishing. One of my canoemen, James Harrison, whom I consider an expert at salmon-fishing, ties good flies. They are so successful that he has had many orders. With one of his Silver Grrays I killed thirteen fish from twenty to thirty-five pounds. One day when Harrison and I were fishing at the Crib, the pool seemed alive with salmon, and although none would take the fly, they would rush savagely for- ward at a small Black Dose, turning as quickly as they came. Finally Harrison took a fly from his pocket — one of his own make, a Black Dose, No. 1 single. It seemed rather large for the condi- tion of the water, and looked more like a good- sized bug. It was put on and cast forth. Two salmon started for it, one about forty pounds and the other, as it proved, of twenty-two, which was hooked and killed. The next cast gave us one of thirty-eight pounds. We were much surprised at the result, because we thought the water too low and clear for so large a fly. This again proves that it is not always the small fly they wish. My experiences of this kind have convinced me that the No. 8 double had best be discarded. It would be impossible to enumerate all the different va- 23 rieties. Let the beginner take those I have men- tioned, and I am quite sure they will be all that he needs. Large flies are not always necessary early in the season, because sometimes the river, although high at this time, is quite clear, and then medium sizes are better. I cannot, of course, tell my readers the best sizes to use ; they should vary as the con- dition of the river changes. During the first part of June there is generally a freshet. As the water begins to fall, but still remains muddy, then use the No. 5/0 Silver Gray, and your heart's desire will be gratified. From eight-thirty in the evening until nine- fifteen, always use the large sizes — from 5/0 to 3/0 Silver Gray or Silver Doctor. This applies to July as well as June fishing. There seems to be a certain time between eight-thirty and nine o'clock when these game fish appear to be in a state of frenzy, rushing eagerly for the fly. Why they prefer this time of night, when all nature seems slumbering, is a mystery to me. Often during these few minutes, which my canoeman has appropriately named the "magic spell," ^ I have had grand sport ; but I have never hooked a salmon later than nine-twenty, and now always stop fishing before that time, as the darkness coming on detracts so much from the pleasure. The "magic spell" begins about the middle of June. 24 THE LEADERS, OR CASTS 'HE leaders — or casts, as they are called by many — should be nine feet in length for early fishing, and made of heavy, strong gut; for at this season of the year, the river being high, the current is much swifter, and greater force is required while playing the fish: therefore the heavier leader is the best. Later in the season, when the river falls and the water is very clear, I should advise the use of leaders twelve feet long and of a much smaller- sized gut. They should lift when dry four pounds, and it is always best to test one before fastening it to the line. I consider the stained leaders prefer- able, as they attract less attention One should constantly examine them, for they frequently be- come knotted when cast against the wind, and should this occur they are apt to break at the knots. This happened to a friend of mine when he had the fish almost within reach of the gaff. In attaching the fly to the leader, hold the fly be- 25 tween the thumb and forefinger of the left hand, with the curve of the hook downward. Cut off the loop of the leader and tie a single knot at the end. Put the knotted end of the leader up through the loop on the hook, turning it to the right. Bend it around the loop on the hook, putting the knot between the leader and top of the loop. Then draw the leader tight, and the knot will prevent the end pulling through. A fly fastened in this manner rests better upon the water, there is less resistance, and in my opinion it will add many more fish to our score than when fastened in the usual way — with the loop. Of course, there are times when salmon will take almost anything ; but when the water is clear, and you are fishing some quiet, shallow pool, then the finest leaders and the most delicate little knots are necessary. In fastening the leader to the line, the end of the line is put through the loop at the other end of the leader, and brought around in the same manner as when attaching the fly. A knot at the end of the line is unnecessary, as it will hold without one, but on the leader it is indispensable. It is always well to put our leaders in water just before they are used. This will soften them and prevent break- ing while handling, for they are somewhat brittle when dry. It will also take out the kinks. Warm water may be used, but never hot. Sometimes they become frayed; by going over them briskly 26 with a soft piece of rubber all the roughness will be removed. "When the fishing is over for the season the lead- ers should be wrapped in oiled silk and placed in tin or wooden boxes. This will keep them in good condition for the following year. 27 THE CLOTHES jN my first visit to the Cascapedia I stopped a few days in St. John, and while there met a celebrated angler. I thought it best to consult him with regard to my outfit, so I asked him to come and see if mine was complete. I had two suits of a light-colored homespun, and one of a very bright plaid. These suits seemed to me to be just the thing. Perhaps the plaid ivas a little startling, but I did not consider it so much so as to scare the salmon out of the river. But when he saw my " togs," he threw up his hands in horror and said : " If you expect to kill any fish, you will be disappointed. Why, they will see you a mile away. This rig is altogether too bright. You should have a dark suit ; even black is better than what you have." "What can I dof" I exclaimed: "I have no other clothes." We finally decided to go to a shop where they sold ready-made clothing, and after trying on, it 28 seemed to me, every suit in sight, we decided upon a black cutaway coat and waistcoat ; and as there were no trousers of the same pattern, I selected a beautiful pair of black with white stripes. " Now," said he, " you are all right." Whether he had any interest in that shop, my readers shall decide; I was a novice, and had never killed a Cascapedia salmon. What did I care whether I fished in a cutaway or a nightgown ! On our arrival at the river, imagine my astonish- ment when my canoeman told me that the loud, startling plaid clothes were just the thing. Per- haps he had an eye for the cutaway ; I am sure that he had, for before I left he got it. Any color will do, although I should not advise fishing in one's shirt-sleeves, at least if the shirt be white and you are on a pool where the salmon can see you — as I once saw a man doing in a white jersey, white duck trousers, and a white hat. I asked him if he had had any sport. " Not a fish since I have been on the river ! " he replied. Yet he continued to wear that white suit just the same. Salmon are accustomed to seeing dark objects floating down the river, such as logs, branches of trees, etc. ; therefore I should recommend clothes as similar in color as possible. The Lovat mixture is an excellent cloth for a suit, with cap to match. When the river is high it does not matter, but at 29 low water one cannot be too careful. I always have a rubber bag in the canoe large enough to hold a rubber coat, boots, a light jersey, a light- weight overcoat, and a pair of socks. It occupies but little space, and when one of those sudden showers comes out of the clear sky these articles are more useful there than at home. A most necessary article is an ounce vial of the oil of citronella. One or two drops rubbed on the hands and face will keep away the whole company of flies and midges. I never knew this until last year, and it is well worth knowing. 30 THE CASTINGl 'HIS is the most interesting part of the sport — not perhaps the most exciting, nor the part one loves the best, but it is the part which requires the greatest skill and upon which depends your success. How indifferent you try to appear when some one says, "Why, how well you cast ! " You always reply, " Oh, no ; do you think so f " when you really think you do, and all the time you are swelling with pride. You are trying not to grin, but you do, and your cheeks are getting red and you are the happiest person in the world because you have been told you cast a good line. A friend of mine was having very poor sport. He was sitting in his canoe, casting a most wretched line, and looking so dejected that I was quite sure if it continued he would not have any luck and might wish to return to camp. As he was to join me at luncheon up the river, and we were to have the afternoon's fishing, it would have been most annoying to have him spoil the day's 31 sport by returning. " What can I do to keep him interested ? " A happy thought struck me : " Tell him he casts well." " How well you cast ! " I shouted. " We all no- ticed it coming up the river." "Oh, no; really?" Up he jumped, threw out his chest, and as I turned a bend in the river, the last thing I saw was that rod going through the air a hundred casts to the minute, and I heard a voice crying out : " Do not be late for luncheon. You know we are to fish early this afternoon ! " He has since become a good fisherman, and we have had many laughs over the incident. I once told a young woman who was fishing on our river that she cast a good fly. I really believe that she would have embraced me had I not changed the subject. We all like to be praised, and what pleases us more than to be told we are expert anglers 1 The learner should remember that it is just as easy to make his casts gracefully as awkwardly. How few anglers there are who, although they are able to make the fly alight fairly well, do it in a graceful and pretty way! It looks very simple, but the little trick puzzles most of us at first, and when once you have acquired the knack of turning the wrists at the right moment, you have accom- plished that in which the majority of anglers have 32 Limestone Pool failed, and with which I have been struggling for the past twenty years. Very little force is needed — not nearly so much, even in very long casts, is needed as one would imagine. I have seen a salmon-angler, who should have known better, use as much force in casting a line thirty feet as he would in casting sixty feet ; yet he can- not understand why in the short cast his fly some- times jumps backward and lands five feet this side of the spot intended, and why, in the backward cast, the tip of his rod hits Bill on top of the head as he sits in the bow of the canoe, unconscious of any danger, looking for logs coming down the river. But Bill certainly knew his man the next trip, for I saw him lying flat on his stomach, duck- ing his head on the back cast, bobbing it up on the forward, "An eye up-stream for those derned logs," as he expressed it, the other on the " strong man." "Quite a busy day," he remarked to my canoeman, as we were passing, "and lucky it 's cold ! No strikes yet, but I guess some one will get one before we get through ! " You should be able to cast equally well from either shoulder, without changing the position of the hands upon the rod. The right usually grasps the rod above the reel, with the left below. This is the position of nearly all anglers when casting from the right shoulder, whether the line is thrown in a direction diagonally to the right, straight away, 33 or diagonally to the left ; but when a cast is made from the left shoulder diagonally to the right, most salmon-anglers reverse the places of their hands. This is not at all necessary. And as it is more artistic to bend the rod toward the left shoulder and to make the cast with one's hands un- changed, why not cultivate the skill that charms — and what has more charm than the casting of a fly? Of course, I do not intend that one should continue throughout the day casting with his hands in the same position in which he began in the morning ; but I do think it better to continue to cast from either shoulder as long as you can without fatigu- ing yourself or reversing the places of the hands. You will be surprised to find how interested you will become in this style of casting, and you will see a wonderful improvement in the alighting of the fly upon the pool. If you have not already accom- plished this little feat, try it and see. Do not attempt to learn the art of casting for salmon upon the grass. We are not going bass- fishing to see how far we are able to throw the bait. We are going to try to capture one of the most beautiful specimens of Nature's creation, and with such a prize before us let us obtain it in a worthy manner. If you begin with the grass practice, your only thought when arriving at the river will be to see how far you can throw the fly ; so instead of trying, as I have seen many do, to ruin the line or 34 break the tips casting for the wily toad upon the lawn, we will go to the bank of some swiftly run- ning stream to practise to our heart's content the art which all true anglers love — the casting of the fly. As most of our fishing will be done from canoes, we should begin our practice in the method by which we intend to kill our fish ; and when one has become proficient in the art of casting the fly from the canoe, it will be easier to accomplish the feat upon land. Casting from the canoe is less difficult than from the bank or beach of the river, because one usually has a clear space in which to make the cast, and should the fly, when thrown back pre- paratory to the forward cast, strike the water, as it sometimes does, nothing more serious is likely to happen than marring the beauty of the cast ; but when casting from the land one should be more careful, for if the fly touches any obstruction it is liable to become fastened, and the result is usually a broken tip or hook. To touch either the water from the canoe, or any obstruction when fishing from bank or beach, is, of course, bad form, and pardonable only when a very heavy wind is blow- ing against one's back. Even in the canoe, do not fail to look behind you to see if there are any trees on the banks, or rocks projecting above the water, which might cause trouble ; for it would be most annoying to find our fly fastened to a 35 branch, or to have the point of our hook broken just as we are about to send it forth with the ex- pectation of hooking a big fish. I have had this experience, and to my sorrow. A large salmon had been reported lying at the lower end of a rather narrow and still pool, situ- ated some distance up the river. Two cliffs, nearly perpendicular, on which grew a few scattered trees, rose majestically on either side of this wild, weird place, the overhanging branches and the slow cur- rent of the water making the casting most difficult. However, having heard the tale of this wonderful fish, of course I was all excitement and eager to know if the guard from up the river had reported correctly. So William, James, and I, keen for a new experience, started the next morning up the Cas- capedia. Arriving at the pool, we stealthily climbed the cliff, and, lying on our stomachs, crawled to the edge. Carefully peeping over, we looked down into the depths of that deep, quiet pool, and saw an enor- mous salmon about four feet under water, and to all appearances resting quietly upon a projecting ledge. He was so large that James made his usual exclamation, " Perfectly scand'lous ! " This time the guard had not exaggerated the size of the fish. We hurried to the beach, jumped into the canoe, and started for the pool, with visions of great hap- piness before us. I told William to place the canoe in a position that would enable me to reach the 36 salmon with the first cast, and to be quite sure that we were far enough away not to be seen. My idea was that by placing the fly directly over the salmon at first, I should be more successful than if I whipped the water, increasing the length of line with each cast; that method, as the pool was so still, I thought would be more likely to frighten him. My men placed the canoe in position, and after waiting until all was quiet I began getting out my line by casting to the left, and, when the required length was reached, lifted it easily and sent it quickly backward, to go forth again, as I intended, as quietly and swiftly as it came. I imagine my fly falling softly on the water; I see a huge salmon rise to it and rush down the rapids. At last my dream is realized! Oh, what joy, what rapture! And to feel myself racing down the river on top of the tumbling seas, with this huge fish occasionally throwing himself clear of the water in his effort to dislodge the hook, while James and William are paddling for life, is a sensation which makes every nerve in my body tingle with excitement. Sud- denly the salmon stops. Shouting to the men to back water, I commence to reel up the slack. "Go on I " I cry. " He is off again ! Hold on there, James; he is up-stream now! No, by Jove! he is going down-stream again ! " And away we go, rushing down the river after him, trusting to find some quiet spot where we hope safely to land the 37 king of the river. Suddenly I am awakened from my sweet delirium by feeling a tug at the end of my line somewhere up the river, and hearing the breaking of branches, I quickly turn about, and, to my horror, discover the fly fastened to a limb of an overhanging tree, and the tip of my rod broken and dangling above. My happy vision has passed away, and I awaken to the realization that it is always best to look up-stream before casting. Having anchored the canoe a sufficient distance from the shore to avoid all obstructions, let the beginner stand about midships, with feet well apart, and the right foot a little in advance of the left. In this position he can balance himself easily, and prevent the boat from wabbling, which should be avoided when fishing a still pool, for the ripples produced by the motion of the canoe are liable to disturb the fish. Pull the line from the reel until there are about twenty feet from the tip of the rod to the end of the leader ; let the current take it out until nearly taut ; then, with the right hand grasp- ing the rod above the reel, and the left in an easy position below, raise both until the right hand is almost opposite the middle of the breast. Bending the wrists slightly forward will bring the rod to an angle of about forty-five degrees — the position in which you begin to make the cast. To make the cast, commence drawing the line by raising the rod slowly backward toward the right shoulder, in- 38 creasing the speed until nearly all the leader is visible. By this time your right arm and rod are nearly perpendicular ; then by a slight lifting mo- tion of the arms and a quick turn of the wrists the rod will spring back, lifting the line and sending it backward without causing the slightest disturb- ance in the water. To prevent the line running from the reel when lifting for the cast, hold it with the first finger only of the right hand. Some an- glers press the line against the rod with all four fingers. This is not a good way, because when the line is released it leaves only the thumb to grasp the rod. When you lift the line for a very long cast it is impossible to see the leader, but a little more speed and a higher elevation of the arms will send the line back in the proper way. In making the forward cast the lifting motion is omitted; but as you spring the rod forward, gently lower it, and the fly will alight softly on the pool. Remember to allow sufficient time for your line to straighten behind you before making the forward cast, otherwise the fly is liable to be snapped off. One should begin with a short line, gradually increasing the length as he improves in his casting. When once you have commenced to draw the line toward you, keep it coming; do not stop to lower the rod, as is the custom with many anglers, in order to get more force to switch the line out. The lowering of the rod sinks the 39 line, makes the cast more difficult, and is apt to break the tip as you lift the line from the water. Remember also to stop the rod when the right arm is nearly perpendicular; for should you cultivate the habit of the " strong man," and throw the rod well back, Bill might become uneasy again. Be- sides, the lowering of the tip pulls the line down, and causes the fly to hit the water. Do not bend the body forward, but stand erect, and make the cast simply with the arms. It is not a graceful sight to see a person bending over and poking out his rod, with the idea that it is helping him to make a longer cast. I cannot understand why it is done, unless one thinks more power is given ; on the contrary, the speed of the fly is lessened. Bending in such a manner is imitating the gyra- tions of a sandpiper; it makes the boat wabble: and this, as I have already stated, is a grave fault. The canoemen also dislike it, for they are expect- ing at any moment to be plunged into the cold river. When casting a long line hold the rod very high, and stop it suddenly when it comes to the per- pendicular. This sudden check bends the rod, causing the line to be sent quickly backward. By the same motion of the rod as in the backward cast, the long line is thrown prettily forward. When you have had lots of practice, and have con- quered this easy, yet seemingly difficult, manner 40 of casting, you may then add the fly and go forth to capture your coveted prize. I consider the stopping of the rod when nearly perpendicular to be an expert's way of casting for salmon. Of course there are many ways of getting a fly out without endangering one's eyes, but the above appeals to me more than any other. There is one thing to especially guard against in salmon-fishing : not to attempt long casts until you are perfect with the short line. It has a certain fascination for us all, so the habit is easily acquired. Even experienced anglers are often too anxious to throw a long line, and I must confess that I some- times try to raise my salmon with the line well out, although frequently failing in the attempt. One will have better sport by remembering the follow- ing rule: Throw only the length of line you can throw well. 41 THE FISHIIsre )N starting for the day's fishing, do not forget any of the articles which are necessary for the sport. I once forgot my fly-book and my canoeman his gaff — a most remarkable thing to do ; but it really happened, and caused us much annoyance. On the Cascapedia I should advise having a gaff at each end of the canoe, for in certain parts of the river it is impossible to beach a fish, and there are some rough places where both canoemen should be ready. When approaching a pool, keep well to- ward the bank, and insist upon the canoemen reversing the position of their poles, for should they use them with the sockets^ down, the sound produced by the steel striking the stones would be more likely to frighten the fish. Having got well past, paddle toward the middle of the river, and, while the current is taking the canoe toward the pool, gradually stop its progress by gently drop- ping the killick.^ Then pay out rope enough to ^A small steel cap placed over one end of the pole to prevent its slipping when it strikes the bottom. 2 A weight used for an anchor ; for salmon-fishing it should be cov- ered with lead to prevent any noise when it touches the bottom. 42 bring the canoe into a proper position for casting, but do not anchor in the middle of the pool; it frightens and drives away the fish. When possible, try from the side ; and if you are not successful, changing to the other side will sometimes cause the salmon to rise. I suppose it is the drawing of the fly across the current in a different way which attracts them. Having anchored, wait a few minutes before attempting to cast, until the salmon have become accustomed to the canoe, for I am sure it distracts their attention from the fly. After a while they get used to its presence and do not mind it. My own experience proves that one will have better success by waiting a little, espe- cially if the water be clear. Even in a rough pool it is better to wait ; but of course if the river be muddy it does not make any difference. During this time of delay I always look down into the depths of the dear old river to see if any of the inhabitants have discovered me poaching. Once I thought a salmon did see me, for I saw the fish plainly, and the water being so clear, I supposed, of course, that we were observed. My alarm was unnecessary, for as I dropped the fly over him and moved it backward and forward, the salmon rose, seized the fly, and away he went. Had I begun to cast as soon as the canoe was in position, I do not believe I should have been successful. No ; when a salmon is as near the canoe as this, do not keep 43 casting for him. Drop the fly lightly above, and draw it to the right, to the left, then up-stream ; if these motions do not tempt him, try dangling it just over the salmon. If he still refuses to rise, take the fly away and rest him a little. At the next attempt try another size or a different kind if you prefer. Keep trying as long as he appears motionless, for he may wake up and get angry after a while, and seize the fly; but should he sidle off a little you may know it is useless trying to tempt him. I have never known salmon to rise after moving away in this manner. I sup- pose, having discovered us, they are frightened. In fishing a pool, try to have the sun in front of you, or shining sideways on the water. K the rays fall upon your back, the moving shadows of your arms are sure to alarm the fish. Even in muddy water salmon will rise better when the sun is in one's face. Nine o'clock is early enough to commence, but as the season advances you should go out a little earlier. In July be up with the lark if you wish any sport, for the best fishing is from 5 : 30 until 7 A.M. Until late in June one can fish throughout the day, but after that until the close of the season early morning and late evening are the proper times. I consider the evening really the best time of all. With the canoe in position, cast the twenty feet of line diagonally to the right, being most careful to 44 have the fly and leader fall upon the water in a straight line. Keeping the tip two or three feet above the surface, move the rod slowly to the left with little short, quick jerks until the fly is below the stern of the canoe, not forgetting to hold the line with the first finger of the right hand. Make the next cast to the left ; bring the fly across the current in the same manner to the right. If this method will not induce a rise, instead of allowing the fly to move across the current, draw it up the stream to the right as soon as it alights, keeping it on the surface. Draw to the left, and back again to the right. Try this a few times before increasing the length of the line, for salmon will often take the fly drawn in this manner, when all other attempts have failed. You can draw the fly with any length of line you are able to cast, but unless you are pro- ficient in this way of fishing, the leader and a good part of the line will remain in the water. I was once whipping a very swift piece of water where salmon usually rise well. This time not a fish would come to the fly, although we knew there were many of them about. After throwing as long a line as I could, I reeled in all but about twenty feet and commenced casting to the left, drawing the fly on the surface up-stream. A few casts had been made without increasing the length, when a very large fish rose, and seizing the fly, ran down the river. We landed him, returned to the same 45 spot, and commenced to draw the fly again, when another seized it, and off he started. I took five salmon out of this water by drawing the fly after it had been given a good trial in the usual way. Sometimes they will take the fly under water, not even a ripple appearing upon the sur- face. It is best to try all methods when you know they are about, but drawing the fly is the most in- teresting to me, and the most successful as well. If you should make a bad cast and the fly fails to fall properly, do not switch the line out immedi- ately and east again to the same place. Switching the line splashes the water. This is sure to alarm the salmon and prevent their rising. It is better to leave the line and let the current straighten it, then take in five or six feet by drawing it slowly through the guys with the left hand. Now make the cast to the opposite side, and continue to do so until all of the slack is released. When you have done this, you may again cast to the side where you failed to land properly. If you are not an ex- pert in this hazardous way of handling the line, instead of drawing it through the guys, reel in slowly and wait a few minutes before casting. The latter method is the simpler and safer. Watch carefully while you are reeling in, for a salmon will often follow and take the fly quite close to the canoe ; I have frequently had them do this. In clear water it is a good plan to drift past a 46 pool to find out, if possible, where the salmon are lying, at the same time keeping a good distance away so as not to frighten them. By doing this you are able to place the canoe in a position to reach the salmon the first cast. Wait ten or fifteen minutes before trying, for if we have chanced to disturb them as we passed they probably have for- gotten all about us by that time. Having located the fish, anchor the canoe far enough away not to be seen, but do not make the cast until you have got out sufficient line to land the fly five or six feet to the right or left of them, as your position in the pool requires. This can be done by casting almost at right angles to the canoe until you have the required length ; then, drawing the line back over the right shoulder, send it for- ward, making the fly and leader fall in a straight line upon the pool. If you do the trick correctly, something huge will suddenly dart from beneath and seize the fly, the quiet and smoothly run- ning waters will part, and away you will go, dancing merrily down the rapids, shouting with joy. A friend and I had been fishing all the morn- ing; it was late in the season — about July tenth. As the river was very low and clear, we had taken only one salmon ; however, there was Just time enough before luncheon to try another pool nearly a mile down the river. I thought we had 47 a very good chance, although the water was quiet and very shallow, if we could land the fly cor- rectly just above a sunken rock where two or three big fellows are usually resting. My friend wished me to make the cast ; so, getting out a long line, I sent it forward, dropping the fly softly on the surface just above the rock. I had hardly commenced to draw it when an enormous shadow seized the No. 6 double Black Dose, and we were off. Out he jumped, and away he went for the rapids, we following at the best speed possible. My friend killed the salmon, which weighed thirty- nine pounds. After luncheon we took two more — twenty-five and thirty-four pounds — on the same ground. I am sure that in low, clear water it is best, if possible, first to locate your fish. Anchor some distance from them ; then, with a long line properly thrown, the game is yours. As soon as you have hooked a salmon, turn the rod so as to bring the reel on top. This will make the line run along the rod, which is better than if it were supported by the guys alone ; besides, with the reel on top, you can play your fish easily. The killick must be taken in at once ; then the canoemen should paddle toward the shore most favorable for the killing, and seizing their poles with sockets up, hold the canoe in position ready for battle. If the salmon starts down the rapids, do not pursue him immediately; 48 wait and see what he really intends to do : for often just as you are about to go down he will turn and go back to the pool. When this occurs, the cast is liable to be cut by the stones in the river-bed; this has happened to me, and I now let the fish get well away before following. When the salmon remains in the pool or in any swift water, keep be- low him if possible. This gives him the current and rod to contend with. Hold the rod well up, because the spring of the rod in this position will kill the fish much quicker than if held at an angle of forty-five degrees ; besides, when he makes his frequent jumps, if the rod is well up you can lower it, and then you will not be shocked by a broken leader, for lowering the rod gives him line. This I consider most important, although there are many anglers who argue differently. I have seen an angler turn a thirty-five-pound salmon com- pletely over when he jumped, and I have also seen the same angler break two leaders in succes- sion doing the same trick. It is safer and prettier to give them the line. Do not hold the salmon too hard at first. When he has become a little quieter, pull as hard as you like, keeping a steady strain all the time. I always try to bring my fish to the man in the stern of the canoe. If you keep below the salmon until he is tired out, you can usually do this. Of course, it is easier to bring him to the bowman's 49 gaff, because, being below the fish, it cannot see you as it comes toward the canoe. The latter method is unhandy, as it invariably necessitates either turning around or changing your seat. A salmon is usually landed in from ten to twenty-five minutes. There are exceptions, of course, but with good management I think thirty minutes is time enough to land any salmon, unless he is hooked outside of the mouth. Should you come to a long stretch of swift-running water, and find the fish is bound to go down-stream, it is great sport to chase him, at the same time reeling up all the line you possibly can. When you have brought him to the surface, which you can easily do, let your men paddle a little faster and gaff the salmon in the current. It is much more exciting and requires more nerve than pulling him about in some quiet eddy until ready for the gaff. Do not allow canoemen to use it until the fish is close to the canoe. They have a way of reaching out and gaffing at arm's length, which is a bad and dangerous thing to do, as it might cause an upset. The best place to gaff a salmon is in the shoulder, and always back of the leader. It takes a little more time, but the fish is more apt to be saved and the leader less likely to be broken. When once you have risen a salmon and he misses the fly, cast again ; and if he rises two or three times more before he yields to the little trap above, you 50 feel a bit satisned because you think you have at last outwitted the same fish — as you suppose him to be. This, however, is not always the case, for very often you hook an entirely different salmon from the one which rose first. I was fishing, many summers ago, near the head waters of that wild little river, the Nepisiguit, and had for my com- panion Mr. Spurr, of St. John, New Brunswick — and a fine salmon-angler he was. As there was a cliff about twenty feet high at the right of the pool in which we expected some sport, I suggested climbing up to see if there were any fish below. Crawling to the edge and looking over, I counted nine salmon at the head of the pool, lying side by side. Having told my friend where to cast, he threw a beautiful line, dropping the fly lightly just above the first salmon on the opposite side. The second fish rose, but did not take the fly. He cast again, when the fourth, darting down-stream, turned and rose in about the same place in which the first had appeared. "I will get you yet, old fellow!" I heard him say. Again he cast, but this time the seventh salmon started and seized the fly just where the other two had risen. " I knew I should get you ! " he shouted. Then there was a tussle. Up and down stream flew the salmon, now out of the water, sometimes sulking, and finally away he went for the rapids. The old 51 gentleman, with the agility of youth, jumped upon a rock, and, giving the butt,^ the rod nearly doubled ; but the greenheart was stanch and true, and, gradually straightening, it slowly pulled back the fish. After leading the salmon up and down the stream a few times, my friend turned the fish toward the shore, and as soon as it felt the bottom it wriggled out of the water upon the beach. " Well done ! " I cried, chuckling with delight at the joke. " Did I not tell you I would get that fish?" again shouted my friend. Not wishing for a moment to destroy his happy delusion, I kept silent. Later I told the old gen- tleman. He seemed disheartened, and said, " It is very annoying — the way those small salmon can fool one." Had I not seen this happen, we both would have thought that the fish which rose first was the one killed. I have often had a salmon rise three or four times nearly in the same place, believing it to be the same fish ; but the above experience shows that we are sometimes deceived. When you have risen a fish early in the season it is a good plan to leave the fly instead of casting again ; for the salmon will often, after missing the fly the first time, immediately turn and seize it, whereas if you had taken it away he might have 1 A term used in angling. When a severe strain is put upon the rod to cheek the run of a fish, it is called "giving the butt." 52 Lower Part of Limestone gone on up the river. At this season they are moving along during the day as well as at night, so it is always best to try this plan. When your fly is in the water keep your eyes on it; pay atten- tion ; fish. But just as soon as you find yourself looking at objects about you, — gazing at the clouds scudding across the mountain-tops or doing anything else you should not, — then take out the pipe and rest a little until you feel like fishi-ng again. Unless you do this you will become indif- ferent to the sport, and will cast badly and very likely lose the one chance of hooking the biggest fish of the season. I once knew there was a large salmon lying at the lower end of Big Camp Pool. Having only one more day on the river, I decided to pole up for the afternoon's fishing, returning the same night. It was a very hot day, and, the pool being about twelve miles from my house, we were obliged to make an early start. When we arrived thunder- clouds were flying thick and fast through the air, making me a little anxious to begin. Having whipped nearly all the pool, killing only one salmon, my prospects for a fifty-pounder did not seem very bright, so I said to my men : " One more drop ; then we will go." I had just made a long cast when my attention was drawn to a big black cloud rising high above the mountains to the left, indicating the approach of a heavy storm. In turning, some- 53 thing happened — what, I never knew. Harrison shouted, " Have you got him ? He 's a whale ! " He made a wave across the pool — at last the fifty-pounder had risen ! What could I do ? I struck, but felt nothing; nor did I ever see any- thing but that big black cloud, which kept on rising high above us as, with gloomy thoughts, we paddled homeward. 54 HOOKINa THE SALMON '0 strike when a salmon rises to the fly is a simple matter. Almost all be- ginners do this feat perfectly ; but to strike at the right moment so as to hook the fish — that is quite another thing. When I began I could equal any one in striking. Back- ward would go my rod, and back would come the fly, to the astonishment, no doubt, of the fish, and to the sorrow of myself and canoemen. When you have a rise, the thing to do is to leave the fly until you feel a pull ; then strike hard if you are using large-sized hooks. With small ones only a little force is required, because when a small fly is required salmon usually do not take it so far back in the mouth ; they seem indifferent, and are more apt to seize it between the lips. If, therefore, much force is given to the strike, the hook is lia- ble to tear out. A salmon will often seize the fly before you are able to pull it away and hook him- self, but even then it is best to strike so as to be sure the hook is home. Sometimes he will take the 55 fly and come forward, keeping yon in donbt about its being seized. If this happens do not wait for the pull — it would be too late ; but if it be a short cast, raise the tip sufficiently to see the leader. Should you then notice that the lower part appears to sink more than usual, or moves a bit to the right, left, or up-stream, give a smart strike, and the chances are you will find yourself hooked to a good big salmon. With a long line out, it is, of course, more difficult to know whether the fly has been taken; experience will tell you, if you pay strict attention. When the fly is taken well under water, as it sometimes is, and no whirl is seen, your only knowledge of the fish is the pull. Then the harder you strike the better. To prevent the line running from the reel when striking the fish, it should be held the same as in casting, with the first finger of the right hand. If the line is not checked in some way when the salmon seizes the fly, it is not likely that you will hook him unless he should be most eager. Take care that you do not strike too hard and break the leader ; release the line as soon as the salmon is hooked. One acquires the habit of striking at the rise from trout-fishing, when, of course, it is necessary. But if you will have a little patience, and say to yourself, " Wait for the pull," all your troubles will fly away at the first salmon hooked. 56 Late in the season a salmon will often seize the fly so gently that if you should wait for the pull it would be too late to hook the fish, for he releases it just as softly but with greater alacrity. At such a time it is difficult to know when to strike. How- ever, with careful watchfulness, you will soon learn. A good little sportswoman once told me it was easy enough to hook a salmon — she never missed any. " Will you tell me the trick ! " I asked. " Why, it is very simple," she replied. " I never fish for trout any more." Many anglers strike from the reel — that is, they depend entirely upon the drag on the reel checking the line sufficiently to hook the fish. When a strike is made in this way, the right leg is usually lifted, the body is bent backward, and the arms thrown up, until the rod is nearly if not quite per- pendicular. Finally, the right hand grasps the handle of the reel; then, with revolutions faster than those of a circular-saw, the angler turns the handle in order to bring the rod back again, with- out giving slack, to the proper position for com- mencing the fight. These acrobatic feats when striking a fish are not graceful, or at all necessary. If you hold the line as I have suggested, then a slight turn of the wrists is usually all that is needed, and your rod will at once be in the right 57 position. With practice you will know how much force to give to the strike, but avoid lifting the arms, which is neither artistic nor correct. Some time ago I had rather an odd experience when striking a salmon. A small wager was made with a friend in camp that I would return in the evening with a forty-pound salmon. My drawing at the club had all been fished, with the exception of two drops, in the Tim Pool at the foot of Big Curley Rapids. Having made a few casts with a No. 6 double Tim fly, I saw a small whirl appear at the end of my leader. Thinking it had been made by a salmon of not more than twenty-five pounds, and not wishing to lose any time as we were looking for forty-pounders, I tried to pull my fly away. Before I could do so, the salmon seized it and immediately settled in the bottom of the pool. We were all disappointed, because my canoemen were as anxious as myself that I should win the small wager. Drifting below the fish, I gave the butt strongly, and although every effort was made to move whatever was lying at the bot- tom of that deep pool, our attempts were in vain. However, I kept on struggling, and finally was rewarded by seeing the line begin to move up- stream — slowly at first, but then swifter and swifter, until at last the rapids are reached, when suddenly out jumps a magnificent fish, and, with a rush which seemed as though everything would be 58 carried away, he starts down-stream for the run below the pool. As it is rough water here, we are obliged to be most careful with the canoe, and just as we get close to the fish, out he jumps again and speeds away for the deep waters of Tim Pool above. We follow as quickly as possible, and after chasing him up and down the river for some time, I finally land a forty-four-pound salmon near the place where the little whirl appeared, and the wager is won. Since then I never judge the weight of a salmon by the size of the whirl. 59 CHANOING FLIES 'HIS is a pleasant, even a delightful way of passing the time while on the pool — and also of bringing on an attack of nervous prostration. You are confident that by changing the fly the fish which leisurely rolled up at the Silver Grray a few moments ago will surely succumb to the fas- cinations of the Jock Scott. You pull out your fly-book, and choosing a beautiful specimen of the same, you hand it to Smith to see if he thinks the size is correct. Then you pass it back to Henry, as you want his opinion of the hook. After brush- ing his fingers across the feathers until you think they are ready to fall off, he decides that the point does turn in a little, so another new bright decora- tion is added to his hat. A second time the fly-book is resorted to, and a Jock Scott — similar in every way to the first — is decided to be a little im- provement on the other ; so, fastening it to the leader, away it speeds on its journey, while you gently draw it across the current and breathlessly await 60 results. Again the wise old fellow below re- fuses to be disturbed in his slumber. Another consultation, and you decide that a darker fly might arouse him ; so this time a Black Dose goes forth on its deadly mission; but still he sleep- eth, and seeth not. A Durham Ranger, a Wilkin- son, Brown and Black Fairies — large and small flies of all kinds are tried ; but the old salmon seems perfectly content where he is, resting in that com- fortable little spot behind the big rock. " Suppose we have a smoke now; let us wait ten minutes and then try the Silver G-ray again." "Don't think it of much use," replies Smith, "but we can try." Fastening securely the same Silver Gray and rising to my feet, I cast it for- ward. " What was that, Smith ! " I cry as my fly comes round. " Think you must have moved him, sir. Wait a little, and cast again." This time, as the fly falls softly, there is a splash and a tug; at last he has awakened from his slumber. If this fish had risen to a Jock Scott, Black Dose, Dusty Miller, or any fly, and you had kept on using it, I believe the result would have been the same. Salmon no doubt sleep more than we think they do, and when we are casting over them they do not see the fly. We raise a fish, and think it strange he does not come again. Then we try all kinds of flies, and finally hook our fish with 61 the same fly to which he first rose. This, in ray opinion, is owing to the salmon being asleep. Then, arousing, and seeing something moving about which puzzles or startles him, he rises slowly to see what it is, and having satisfied his curiosity, gently drops for another nap. Awakening the second time and seeing the fly, he says to himself : " Oh, there 's that beastly thing again. How an- noying! Think I'll go up and drive it away." Being refreshed by his sleep, he feels more like exercising; so, darting upward, he seizes the hook. At the flrst of the season, my favorite fly, as I have already stated, is the Silver Gray, but my wife takes her salmon with the Silver Doctor. When the water is a little clear, but still high, and most of the anglers are using the Jock Scott as well as other varieties, I find the Black Dose kills just as many fish, showing that the color does not make much difference at this stage of the water. When the river is low, I believe that salmon will take a small dark fly in preference to one of a brighter color. Still, I have been very suc- cessful using both the No. 6 double Dusty Miller and the No. 6 double Silver Gray, and this expe- rience at times makes me doubt if they have any choice. My friend the late R. G. Dun, who fished the Cascapedia for many years, told me he found that the medium-sized bright fly, even in low 62 water, did good work. Once I saw him killing sal- mon in the middle of the day with a fly whose body was silver, the hackle red, and the wings nearly pink. I asked him what he called it, and he said it was a Silver Durham Ranger, size No. 1. Another fancy of his was the Wilkin- son, which I have tried and found to be good. The Durham Ranger, however, has never be- friended me on the Cascapedia, although if con- stantly used it might do as well as any other color. We all like to change flies ; it amuses us, and there is a certain fascination about it : but I believe it is more apt to do harm than good, because the more you change, the more you whip the pool. It is better to rest the fish longer, cast less frequently, and try to tempt them again with the same fly at which they first rose. I do not believe that salmon pay any particular attention to the color of small objects in high water; it is likely that the size and the bright silver tinsel on the body attract them more than the color of the fly; therefore, at this time, when the water is muddy, and also at night, use large sizes with silver bodies; but when the river is low and clear, I should recom- mend small and medium flies of sombre hues. Then, if the salmon are not sleeping and you are careful in making the cast, you will not find it necessary to be continually changing flies. One may be using too large or too small flies, and the 63 salmon refuse to rise; but if they refuse to come to my favorites, the Silver Gray, Dusty Miller, Black Dose, or Tim, I do not believe it is worth while changing, except for the amusement it affords. One hot day in July, I was fishing the run below Middle Camp on the club waters. There had been no rain for several days, so the river was very low and clear. When I had whipped nearly all the run, which was about a quarter of a mile long, my canoeman suggested a change of fly. I had been using a No. 6 double Black Dose, so as an experi- ment put on a yellow fly with light brown wings, size No. 2, single hook. Dropping the canoe about fifteen yards, two or three casts were made, when I hooked and landed a twenty-seven-pound salmon. Not being convinced that the new fly was the cause of our success, I had the men take up the killick and pole to the head of the run so we could drift over the water we had already fished. This was done most carefully, and although we could see every stone in the river-bed, we failed to find any salmon, showing that the little canary was not more alluring, but that there were no salmon where we had been fishing. I had a similar experience at the head waters of the Nepisiguit, with the same kind of a fly, but my friend who was with me al- ways contended that changing to the canary brought us luck. 64 A guard on the Cascapedia, and a good angler, told me he had once cast a Black Dose over some salmon for twenty minutes or more without being able to move any of them, but upon changing to another dark fly which he called the " Kennedy," a fine big fellow rushed immediately for it. As it was in swift water where he took the salmon, it is possible that the fish changed its position in the pool while the guard was changing the fly, and the " Kennedy " was the first fly the salmon saw. Had the guard continued with the Black Dose and been most careful about his casts, I believe it would have been just as effective. The angler, after cast- ing a long time without any rises, often becomes careless and does not drop his fly correctly on the pool. He then changes the fly. Again the expec- tation of hooking a fish makes him more keen, so for a few moments he casts better ; it is then that the salmon is hooked. This the angler attributes to the changing of the fly, when it is really owing to better casting. In my own fishing I have no- ticed that if I am casting badly I cannot get any salmon. This is especially true when the river is low. But when you know that you are casting over the same salmon, which is possible to deter- mine only in clear water, and he rises to but re- fuses different sizes of the same fly, I doubt very much if other colors will tempt him. I have frequently clipped the wings, tail, and 65 hackle of my fly after a salmon has refused it, and with this trimmed affair have killed two or three fish, showing it was the size rather than the color which won them. 66 THE WEATHER 'HE weather at times seems to have a rather depressing effect upon salmon. In June, when the days are cool and dull, they are not as eager for the fly as in bright, clear weather. To kill a salmon dur- ing a thunder-storm is a feat which I have never accomplished, though I have got many a good ducking in trying it. I have taken fish when the thunder was rolling through the heavens and a little rain falling upon the pools, although the storm was some distance away. But when those terrific explosions burst upon you from directly overhead, as if the clouds were torn asunder, and fierce lightning adds new fear and danger to us below — at such a time I believe the salmon, like other animals, including their human cousins, are thinking more of their safety than of anything else. Perhaps a few anglers may have braved all this and killed fish, but I have never been able to get a rise in a thunder-storm, and am quite sure I shall never try again. Once I fished all through 67 a severe storm, when I knew the pool was full of fish, but not a fin of them would rise to take the fly; while just before and immediately after the storm I had splendid sport. It must be the jar as well as the sound of thunder which frightens them. Easterly winds are not considered particularly favorable for sport, although I have killed many a salmon when it was blowing that way. A bright, clear morning in June, with the wind from the south, is the best of all ; but in July our prayers are for rain from the west or south. A very heavy downfall is not good, because the big drops hit the water so forcibly as to make large bubbles, and these prevent salmon from seeing the fly. I may err in saying that salmon do not see the fly amid the large bubbles, but I have never had a rise when this condition prevailed. It is an old saying among the natives, "Much mist on the river, no salmon." I have not always found this true ; often when there has been a very dense fog my canoe has done remarkably well. I do not think heavy mists improve our chances during the first part of June, for then the warmer and clearer the days the better the sport. Later in the season cool, dull days are preferable; and a little mist does no harm. This has been my experience. It was an afternoon in July; the day had been extremely mild until about four o'clock, when the balmy breeze from the west suddenly changed to a 68 cold east wind, which came sweeping up the valley and made it most disagreeable to be on the river. I said to my men : " Perhaps this sudden whim of the wind may cause a change of mind in that big fish we saw this morning in front of the camp. He may now be willing to rise." We poled up to the pool with the utmost care, and placing the canoe about sixty feet above the spot where the salmon was lying, I put on a No. 4 double Dusty Miller. My hands were cold, and I told James to make the first cast, never dreaming the salmon would be so near. He made a cast. Instantly a very large fish jumped nearly out of the water, and, seizing the fly, dashed up the stream, taking out thirty yards of the line before I could get the rod. In a second lie started up- stream again with a run of forty yards. By this time we were following as fast as possible, but found it most difficult, as we had to go up a rapid before reaching the pool in which the salmon stopped. While we were moving along I was able to take in some line; when all but about forty yards was on the reel, my men suddenly stopped poling, and, to my dismay, Harrison said : " That salmon is behind the ledge; we must get on the other side of the rapid right away if we wish to save him." I was a little angry, for the men should have told me that there was a ledge on that side. We had just started to go across when I felt a tug, 69 then another, and before I knew what had hap- pened the ledge cut my leader and the salmon went off like a flash. It was a very large fish — fifty pounds, I should think, or more; and when my line came back I could have wept. Had I known there was a ledge under water, I would have gone toward it as soon as the fish made its second run, and then, perhaps, been spared the great disappointment. It was most annoying to lose the fish at this time, because my wife and six men were watching me from the bank, and every soul of them (save one) believed it to be my fault. Having tried this same salmon in the morning, it would appear as if the cold wind had made him change his mind and take the fly in the afternoon. They will often do this when there is a sudden change from a warm to a cold wind. On the following morning, as I came out of my room, I saw Harrison paddling about, looking into the deep water of the pool where I had lost my fish the previous evening. Presently he crossed the rapid, and as he beached the canoe he shouted: " My gracious ! Mr. Davis, there 's a salmon in that pool in about twenty feet of water, and he is the biggest fish I have ever seen ; I believe he is the one you hooked last night. He 's a brute ! " I thanked James quietly and blessed him. 70 THE LOOS IIMBERINGr in the Cascapedia country has developed to such an extent that it is the cause of much annoyance to the anglers. The thousands of spruce and cedar logs which the choppers have cut and hauled to the banks during the winter are rolled into the river in the spring, and they come, dancing along, bobbing up and down in the current, just about the best fishing time, endangering those in the canoes and ruining for a time all the chances of any sport. Fortunately this condition is only temporary, as the logs are not more than two or three days in passing. But when you know there are fresh-run salmon eager for the fly resting in the pools, and it is impossible to fish for them, you find it very hard to refrain from using unpardon- able expressions. I do not believe that an occasional log floating down the river does any harm ; it rather excites the fish, and sometimes wakes them up a bit when in a state of lethargy, for I have often taken one 71 just after a log has passed. I would not advise fishing when the logs are continually going by, as then no doubt the salmon are frightened. Once I saw a salmon spring from between two logs, striking one of them as he fell back. He did not seem to be much alarmed, for he glided away very quietly. Unless one has expert canoemen, it is not safe to go out when the logs are thick ; but if you should be unable to resist the temptation to go a-fishing, insist on having both men face the bow of the canoe when you anchor; in this position they can see the logs better coming down the river, and it is wiser to have two men on the lookout than one. I used to think one was suffi- cient, and depended entirely upon my bowman, until one day a. large log, drifting quietly along, bumped against the bow of my canoe and sent me tumbling over backwards as I was trying my best to induce a fine old salmon to rise the second time. It was most fortunate I did not fall overboard, for just below there was a dangerous piece of water. The man was so intent watching my efforts to raise the fish that he forgot all about the drifting logs ; however, I forgave him, as he promised to do better. Once, when I was fishing my lower water, a raft came down the river headed directly for a pool I intended to try. Believing, of course, it would drive all the salmon away, I decided not to fish ; 72 but my men seemed to think, as we had come so far, we should make a trial before returning. "All right; let us try," I said. We dropped the killick, and in two minutes after the raft had gone by I was fastened to a salmon — the only one I found in the pool. My canoemen told of a person who used to have a small tree drawn through a pool to stir the salmon up, as he expressed it, so they would bite ; and, strange to say, the experiment worked well. One night, as we were poling leisurely toward camp, I saw a large night-heron perched on a log which was floating down the middle of the river. It was really a comical sight. I suppose the bird, feeling lazy and wishing to avoid any fatigue, had chosen this means of traveling ; he seemed so absorbed in his happiness that he scarcely deigned to notice us as we passed. Gazing on him until he was out of sight, we continued up the river. The old proverb, "It is an ill wind that blows no man to good," must be a true one. On a bright, crisp morning, when the logs were running very thick, my wife with her canoemen made an early start for a pool three miles down the river. It was about the only place where there was any chance of saving a fish ; for, the river being wide, with the current strongest close to the left bank, nearly all the logs that came down followed the cur- rent toward that side, leaving a moderately clear 73 space to the right in which to cast. About an hour after Mrs. Davis had left, I called to the men and told them to get ready, as I was going down to see if there would be any danger in fishing this pool. By the time we were ready to start, the logs had increased in numbers, making the running most difficult. We soon came in sight of the other canoe, and saw that it was in the midst of the logs in the worst part of the river. Both men were standing, trying to push the logs away, while my wife, sitting flat in the canoe, was playing a big fish. Sometimes the rod would be held under water to let the logs run over the line ; then up it would go, to be as quickly put down again, allow- ing more to pass. When we had arrived within one hundred yards of her canoe, I told my men to seize thek poles, the bowman to watch the logs as they came near us and push them toward the left shore, while James in the stern was to hold the canoe. In a few minutes we had a clear space for Mrs. Davis to play the fish, and shouted to her to pull as she never had pulled before. She turned the salmon ; he reluctantly left the swift current, and, with a tremendous leap, sprang ten feet toward shallow water. This was just what was wanted, for if he could be kept away from the logs he was sure to be landed, if the hook held. By dropping a little farther down-stream we were enabled to push nearly every log away, thus giving a larger 74 space and making the chances still better for sav- ing the fish. Then came a hard and bitter fight to prevent the salmon from getting back to deep water ; the angler, as well as the salmon, began to feel the strain. But again the deadly spring of the little cane-rod splendidly did its work ; and, mak- ing a mighty effort, my wife succeeded in turning the fish, thus winning the hard-fought battle. After a few ineffectual attempts to break away, he is gently brought to the gaff and lifted into the canoe. A cry of delight is heard, for it is her first forty-four-pound salmon, a large fish to kill even under favorable conditions ; but, with the river full of logs, both the men and the angler deserve praise for the skill and coolness that gave them the victory. Unless the lumbermen drive their logs earlier in the season, they will eventually ruin the Casca- pedia as a salmon river. During the drive of 1903 the logs were more than five weeks passing my camp, and at a time when salmon were running up. Jam after jam extended from the camp five or six miles up the river ; in one place it was nearly blocked, there being hardly space enough to pole the canoe. This, of course, is not allowed by the government ; nevertheless it happened. When the logs remain so long in the river the water becomes colored and dirty ; innumerable pieces of the bark keep drifting down, which, in my opinion, is as 75 injurious as so much sawdust. I have asked the men why they do not drive earlier, when the river is high; then it would not make so much differ- ence, as the logs would pass quickly. Their answer invariably is that the boom is not strong enough to hold so many logs; they would drift out to sea. If such is the case, the government should prevent the owners driving more than they can handle, and insist upon the logs being in the boom by the last of June. Sixty or seventy thou- sand coming down at low water, as was the condi- tion this year, will stop the late June and early July run of salmon from entering, for they will not enter a river in which there is any dyeing material. Now that lumbermen have invaded the Lake Branch, and scows every few days pass up and down that narrow stream, I believe the salmon will be exterminated eventually in that part of the river unless the government comes to their rescue. It is destructive to have horses wading and hauling scows through the Lazy Bogan coun- try, as there the river is also narrow and shallow ; but when they arrive at the junction of the two branches, they should be compelled to stop, and the supplies for the logging camps toted over the road. This would necessitate a little more outlay, and the owners of the timber should be made to do this if it is the means of preserving the breed- ing-ground. In the winter supplies are sent over 76 Her First Forty-foue-pound Salmon the road, and this should be done also during the spawning season ; for the scows are nearly as broad as the stream, and the water being shallow, they must necessarily scrape on the bars as they are hauled along, destroying the spawn and disturbing the fish. If this matter is brought before the gov- ernment, it will without doubt remedy the evil and be willing to protect the breeding-ground of our lordly salmon. The Cascapedia Club and the few lodges along the river are doing everything they possibly can, but I do not believe they will be suc- cessful in increasing the number of salmon unless the lumbermen help in their preservation. If what I have seen this season continues, I am afraid the beautiful Cascapedia will become, like its sister, the " Little River," only a sweet remembrance. 77 THE SALMON >HE salmon of the Grand Cascapedia average more in weight than those of any other river in Canada. Although the majority of the fish taken run from twenty to thirty-three pounds, many are killed that weigh from thirty-three to thirty-eight pounds, and even as high as forty-three to forty-five pounds is not unusual; but when one overtops the forty-five-pound mark, congratula- tions are extended along the line to the lucky angler. Every year there are one or two forty- seven- or forty-eight-pound fish landed, and some seasons I have known as many as four or five of these enormous fish to be brought to the gaff. The fifty-pound salmon are quite rare, although I was most fortunate, in the season of 1900, in taking one of fifty-one pounds, and the following year another of fifty-two, the killing of which I shall describe later on in " A Trip to Red Camp." A surprising number of small salmon, weighing from ten to sixteen pounds, have come into the 78 ■ ■^£ The Fifty-two-pound Salmon M-4¥-. river during the past four or five years. Formerly I very seldom killed a fish as small as eleven pounds, though of late the river seems to hold any number of these small fish. As I do not find many of them in my pools late in the season, or even in the club water, — unless at the upper part of the river, — they must be bound for the head waters. I believe they belong to the lake and salmon branches, and are the result of protection. They are game little fellows, and when hooked will run, jump, and skip about, trying to outdo the antics of their grandfathers. It is a great mistake to think that the forty-pounders are less game than their younger companions. I dare say some of these large fish, like the smaller ones, will act very sluggishly at times: there is no accounting for their whims. Of the many large fish I have taken of forty pounds or more, I remember only three which seemed disinclined to give a bit of sport. The rest were wild, raving terrors. One of forty-four pounds sprang clear out of the water, and, seizing the fly, in three successive leaps got half-way across the pool, with forty or fifty yards of line cutting the water like a knife. Suddenly he turned, and, with a tremendous bound, sped away for freedom ; but the delicate little fly held fast, and, with the rod bending like a bow and the reel singing its merry tune, we found ourselves fly- ing along the current, chasing something which 79 seemed almost uncanny. After a while we got close enough for the gaff, and by a quick stroke of the paddle the canoe shot forward, when James, sending the gaff deep into the shoulder, lifted the grand old salmon into the canoe. As most of my large salmon have given me some thrilling experi- ences, I prefer the killing of large fish. I remem- ber hooking a thirty-five-pound salmon in the tail, and another of forty-two pounds in the side. Had I lost these fish without seeing them, I should have thought something mighty had seized the fly. The one of forty-two pounds took me half a mile down the river before I could land him, the fish was so large, and being hooked in the side it made it im- possible to bring him to the canoe without losing a lot of time. So after wearing him out we pad- dled toward the middle of the river and gaffed him in the swift water; he was the hardest fighting salmon I ever killed. An angler on the Cascapedia once played a salmon three and a half hours, and finally lost the fish by breaking the leader. I heard that another angler, after playing a salmon three hours, lost his fish in the same way. Both of these salmon were seen before they broke the casts, and were supposed to have been of extraordinary size. I knew the men of one of the canoes, and they told me that their fish would weigh seventy pounds. They were both experienced canoemen, and no doubt 80 believed the salmon to have been prodigious ; but I think they were excited and overjudged the weight of the fish, for I have never seen a salmon in the Cascapedia which I thought would weigh over sixty pounds, and I have looked in every pool at low water from Lazy Bogan down. It is very uncertain judging the weight of a salmon in the water, especially if he is very long, for the longest are often the thinnest, which is always the case with the males. When salmon enter the river and are in good condition, they weigh nearly as many pounds as they are inches in length; of course there are exceptions. It was reported in camp one day that a very large salmon had been lost by an angler up the river. All the guards were told to have an eye for this monster fish, as the angler thought that his salmon, being badly hurt, would surely die and drift down-stream. Three days later a friend of mine killed the very same fish two miles below, with a part of the leader dangling from its mouth. The salmon weighed twenty-seven pounds, and was presented to the disconsolate sportsman. " The lost fish are always the largest." During the number of years I have been on the river I have seen only four grilse. Although many are taken in the Restigouche, the Cascapedia seems quite free from them. About the twentieth of June large numbers of 81 sea-trout come up the river, and while they are resting on the bars or in some shallow pool grand sport may be had fishing for them with a light rod. One should use a reel holding thirty or forty yards of line, for the trout are large, weighing from one to five pounds, and often they will start off like a salmon, obliging one to follow in the canoe. 82 THE EUNS AND VAKIETIES HAVE been told by some of the old net-fishermen on the Cascapedia that there are three runs of salmon during June and July, and each a different variety. The first run, they say, comes in during the last of May and first part of June, the second arrives about the middle of June, and the third some time after the fifth of July. Whether this is true or not I cannot say, but I do know that salmon are continually coming into the river from the last of May until the last of July, and no doubt during August there are a few stragglers. From the first of June till the last the river seems to be full of fish. After this time the lower part does not contain as many, for most of them have gone farther up ; and, it being very late, there are only a few coming in. I have observed the three following varieties, which the natives call the first run, the red-fins, and the green-backs: The first run is that which arrives about the last of May; these are the bright silver salmon upon which all anglers love to gaze and are eager to capture. The red-fins come along the last of June ; although I believe they average more in weight, they are not so long in proportion to their size as the first run. Their fins have a peculiar red shade, and their bodies from the anal nearly to the pectoral fins have a more golden tint, but their backs have the same green color as the first run. We know that salmon change in color after they have been a few weeks in the river. Their backs grow darker, and the bright silver appearance of their bodies turns to something more like copper-color. The fins put on a reddish hue, the spots about the gills increase in size, and altogether they are not par- ticularly interesting to look upon. The peculiar color of the red-fins is not due to the river. They must have had it when they entered, because they have this color when their backs are green, and this denotes they are fresh-run fish. The third variety, the green-backs, arriving late in the season, do look a little brighter than their companions lying at the bottom of the pool. This is perfectly nat- ural, because, being fresh-run fish, their backs would be lighter in color than those of salmon which arrived early in June. But how can we account for the back of a fresh-run green-back being lighter in color than that of a fresh-run salmon ? Are the natives right, and have we three varieties in the river 1 The only difference 84 I have ever seen in the Cascapedia salmon (with the exception of color and size) is the position of the adipose and the anal fin; these, I notice, are much nearer the tail in some than in others. Whether it denotes a different variety or malfor- mation, I am unable to say. The natives also tell me that in some seasons they have known a good run of salmon to come into the river in August, and even late in Septem- ber they have seen my lower pools well stocked, when in the early part of the month hardly a fish could be seen in the same water. These fish may have dropped back to spawn from higher up the river, or they may have refused on account of the logs to enter at low water, and waited outside until nearly breeding-time. Not having been on the river in September, I cannot tell why so many occasionally appear at this time, but I do not be- lieve there is generally in September on Canadian rivers much of a run. 85 THE EISES ?HY do salmon rise to the fly? Is it merely the desire for food that causes them to spring so beautifully out of the water 1 Or is it joy or anger that makes them take the fatal lures we gently draw across the stream ? My idea is that both joy and anger are the cause of their misfortune. I be- lieve that as soon as salmon enter this cold north- ern river they experience a sensation of happiness. What pleasure it must give them, having escaped the dangers of the deep, to go bounding up-stream on the way to the breeding-ground, where in their silent homes they bring forth their young to replenish the Grand Cascapedia! While they are in this joyful state they love to frolic. They will take small bits of wood — indeed, they will seize almost anything. But when they have been in the river a number of days and the water begins to fall, their excitement becomes less intense, and, gradu- ally getting used to the situation, they are not as keen to seize everything they see. They are like our- selves, for are we not supremely happy as soon as we 86 get the first glimpse of the river ? A new life be- gins to creep into our body, and we are all excite- ment until seated in the canoe. We cannot, like the salmon, seize the fly, but we can for a time make the rod very lively, although we know there is not the slightest chance of hooking a fish. After a time we become more rational, and go fishing in a pleasant and peaceful way. I have caused many an obstinate salmon to take the fly simply by dan- gling it over him a few minutes, having failed to entice him by any other method. It seems to annoy the fish. They rush at it to drive it away, but it won't go ; and at last, in desperation, they seize it and are hooked. I attribute this entirely to anger. As salmon are accustomed, when in the sea, to seize small fish for food, the desire for chas- ing their prey may exist when they enter the river ; then, seeing the flies skipping about on the surface, they rush eagerly at them for the sport it gives, although not requiring them for nourishment. If their desire for food gave us this grand sport, and the beautiful pictures they make when they leap for the fly, would we not at times find something in their stomachs indicating such a desire ? Most anglers agree that salmon do not feed in fresh water, and I am told that, through some process which takes place in the stomach while in the river, they become utterly incapable of digesting food. I was once fishing for a few days in the Flat Lands 87 on the Restigouche Eiver. One evening, toward sunset, while sitting in my canoe, I saw a salmon rise and seize a small butterfly which was drift- ing with the current. The butterfly had hardly disappeared when I again noticed it on the surface of the river a short distance below. Now if the salmon had desired this insect for food I do not believe he would have permitted it to escape so easily. Another time, when I was reeling in a greedy young trout which had risen to my big gray fly, a large salmon rushed fiercely for him, but turned away quite as quickly, showing that his intention was only the chase. If salmon feed in fresh water, why should they not weigh as much fifty miles from the mouth of the river as they do at fifteen ? They may lose a few pounds in the fatigue of running up to their homes, but with three or four weeks' rest and plenty to eat it seems as though they should re- gain their weight. A salmon forty-eight inches in length which I killed at Lazy Bogan weighed only thirty-six pounds; one of thirty-nine inches weighed only thirty pounds. They were both female fish and looked in good condition. Nearly all that I killed at Lazy Bogan have weighed much less in propor- tion to their length than those taken in the lower part of the river, which I think again proves that salmon do not feed in fresh water. I have used sunken bait — artificial minnows — and in vari- ous ways tried to hook them, but without success, so it seems that it is more in sport they rise to the fly. The most wonderful feature of their habits is the instinct which leads them to return to the same river which they left the season before to explore the mysteries of the sea. They surely must re- member and recognize some peculiarity in the con- dition of the stream as it flows out into the bay and meets them on their annual return to fresh water. We all know that heavy freshets bring good fly- fishing. The reason is that the heavier the volume of water flowing into the bay, the farther out the salmon must meet it and know it to be the water of their home. They then follow it up immediately to the river, and thus escape the nets. Low water, on the other hand, brings a harvest to the net-fish- erman. This would indicate that the salmon, not meeting, as they expected, any fresh water out in the bay, and knowing they had come far enough to find it, seek this fresh water nearer the shore ; and while they are cruising about trying to find it they are caught by the nets. I do not believe in the theory that many salmon are taken in the nets while they are chasing small fish toward the shore for food. They no doubt feed when in the bay, because food has been found in their stomachs; but just as soon as they find fresh water, in they rush on their way to happiness and misfortune. 89 DO SALMON HEAR? ^0 salmon hear? This is a question often asked. Kind Nature has allowed them to distinguish sound without burdening them with those horrible appendages, the ears. We all know that a trout will dart forth from beneath the bank as we pass, although he sees us not. Here, no doubt, vibration is the cause of his uneasiness, for he certainly did not hear us. Now carefully crawl to the bank without causing any vibration; then let some one fire a gun quite a distance away. The trout will refuse to take the fly or bait, and sometimes you will see them darting here and there, in a state of anxiety bordering on madness, until they have found some quiet little place in which they feel safe. This time it is not the vibration of the bank, but the noise made by the firing of the gun, which has frightened them. When fishing salmon I have had similar experiences regarding their hearing, which makes me believe they are very 90 acute in distinguishing sound and will not take the fly. until some time after the noise has ceased. One day at Coull's Pool, a part of my own water, I was having good sport until we discovered, half a mile below and on the opposite, side of the river, Joseph Comier comiDg up the beach with his old bay mare to haul logs from the bank. As the horses' shoes struck the stones in the bed of the river, they made such a noise that it seemed useless trying any longer; however, we kept on, not getting even a rise. After a time, giving up all hope of doing anything, I told the men to take me ashore ; but as we knew there were a good many salmon in the pool, we disliked the idea of going away, so decided to wait and try after Comier had stopped hauling. Now Comier was a most agreeable and obliging fellow, and, being anxious to do us a favor, he knocked off work much sooner than we expected. Very naturally we were delighted when we saw him depart, for we hoped to have some more sport. Wishing to give the salmon time enough to get over their fright, I turned over on the grass for another forty winks ; but I had hardly closed my eyes, it seemed, when Harrison, waking me suddenly, said : " Better come now — just saw two salmon rise." " My waking thoughts, the dream that gilds my sleep, The noontide reverie, all are given to thee — to thee alone, to thee alone." 91 Rushing to the canoe, we were quickly anchored on the pool ; and in another half-hour I had brought to gaff three fine fish from the very same place in which we could not get a rise while the old bay mare was wading about below and pound- ing on the bottom. Another time, when I was fishing a pool in front of the club-house, one of the guards some three hundred yards below the house, believing I had gone up the river, fired his rifle. The report was very startling: it echoed through the mountains and died away in a dull sound in the distance. Presently he fired again, and before I had the pool half whipped still another report was heard. This was beginning to be wearisome. Pulling up the killick, we turned homeward, and had just started to cross when the guard appeared. Of course he apologized, saying he was very sorry and had no idea we were so near. Thinking it of no use to try the same pool again until it had taken a rest, we anchored in another a hundred yards below. Here also we failed to get a fish. Believing the noise had frightened the salmon, I decided to return to the club-house and wait till after lun- cheon, when I would give them another trial. About three o'clock we again started out, killing two fish in the pool opposite and one in the pool below. I am sure the firing was the cause of our failure to get these salmon in the morning. 92 Thus salmon have a quick ear for danger; but I do not believe that the sound of distant thunder or any noise which does not mean danger has the least effect upon them, any more than the falling of trees or the cracking of ice in the lakes has upon any of the wild animals roaming the woods. They are familiar sounds, and are not noticed ; but if you cough, sneeze, or make the slightest mistake when following some tough old caribou over the hills, away he will bound, and lucky indeed is the sportsman who can overtake him again. I believe that not only can salmon hear perfectly well, but that they are able to tell what sounds forebode danger. I have never taken any while the striking of sockets is heard, the firing of guns, the wading of horses, or any loud unfamiliar disturbance. My advice to all is, when on a pool drop the killick gently — be sure that salmon can both see and hear you. Do not make a noise ; caution your men not to hit the sides of the canoe with their paddles, or with their pipes when knocking out the ashes; do not raise your voice ; keep quiet ; be as careful as if you were stalking some crafty old moose through the forest : and then, with a fly well thrown, if you fail the fault lies not with the angler. I have read that different sounds have been com- municated, through an instrument similar to a tele- phone, to salmon in a tank. To some of these music evidently hath charm, for certain tunes ap- 93 peared to elate their spirits, causing tliem to rise and fall as if dancing to the sweet strains. Other tunes, on the contrary, seemed to have a depress- ing effect, as they remained motionless. This quite agrees with my theory that salmon are able to hear, and while some sounds do not disturb them, others are most alarming. 94 THE KELTS [HOULD my friends be unfortunate enough to hook a kelt, or " slink," as they are more familiarly called by Cascapedia natives, do not allow the canoemen, especially if it be your first fish, to im- pose on you this long, thin, attenuated-looking creature and gaff him for a bright salmon. If you do, there will come over you, while you are being poled up the river in the twilight, a feeling of doubt and disappointment about the wonderful tales you have heard of this bright, leaping fish. But the men will say : " Why, he 's all right ! That 's a nice salmon, only a little thin ! " and wUl prevail on you to take it to camp to show your friends what a beauty you have killed. Do not let them play the joke. It is a little trick of theirs that they practise on the beginner. Kelt is a name given to the salmon which have remained in the river all winter, and, when the ice melts in the spring, come down on their way to the sea. At this time they are very poor and thin, but 95 will rise most eagerly, much to the annoyance of the angler, as, not being suitable for food, they are of little use. Besides, it is not considered sports- manlike to kill them, for they are supposed to go to the sea, returning the following spring bright, beautiful salmon. It takes a long time to play them sufficiently, so that one can remove the fly without causing any injury; but when this is done, rejoicing in their freedom, away they go on their happy journey, to return again decked in all their silvery hues. The kelts usually say "au revoir" for the season from June fifteenth to the twen- tieth, to the pleasure of all. A dear friend of mine, who has long since cast his last fly, on his first visit to Eed Camp hooked a very large salmon which took him three miles down the river. It was so dark by the time he had got the fish near the canoe that the men had great difficulty in gaffing. It proved, however, to be a kelt of twenty-eight pounds. As it was his first experience in salmon-fishing, he was delighted ; so we said nothing. But I shall never forget the ex- pression of doubt and fear that came into his face when he asked us to come and see his salmon. Something seemed to worry him as he gazed upon this slim, emaciated slink lying upon the lawn ; but as we complimented him upon having captured such a splendid fish, his countenance brightened, and he entered the house happy. 96 THE ROCKS tOCKS afford a resting-place for salmon on their way up the river, and if there are none in the pools you are fishing, do not fail to have some put in. In deep, swift water I have been very successful where formerly without the rocks I failed to get even a rise, and late in the season salmon have been seen lying behind these very same rocks. I have always had good results by placing them near the shore in three or four feet of water; the only difficulty in shallow water is, they are apt to be swept away by the ice-jam as it moves down the river in the spring. Only a few rocks are necessary for each pool. Do not place them in line with each other, but scatter them over the bottom about thirty or forty feet apart. Should the pool be small, two or three are sufficient. If more are put in, it is liable to be ruined, because, lying close together, they cause a whirling motion at the bottom, and salmon very seldom rest in this kind of water. 97 There is a rock in the Cascapedia called the " Heckscher Rock." It may be seen at any ordi- nary height of the river as a landmark lying just at the water's edge. During a heavy freshet my friend, on account of whom the rock has become famous, succeeded in enticing from beneath its eddies a number of large salmon. As he usually finds at high, water one or two fish near this rock, I decided to place some along the beach, but a little farther out in the river, hoping thus to hold many more of the first run. I tried the scheme, and was delighted with, the experiment, for nearly every day during the freshet salmon would rise along this stretch of water, proving conclusively that the rocks are a benefit to some parts of the river. 98 A TRIP TO RED CAMP " 'T was in the summer-time so sweet, When hearts and flowers are both in season." ?OULD you like to go salmon-fishing with me ? " " Of course," replied my friend ; " I should be delighted." So in June, 19 — , our party, consisting of my wife, my friend Mr. J. G. Heckscher, two servants, and Mixer, an Irish terrier, who was every bit as eager for the sport as ourselves, might be seen slowly approaching the Cascapedia station. The little party, worn out by a fatiguing night's jour- ney, were lolling about in their seats, no doubt thinking of the many big salmon they were to kill and the bright and happy days before them in this great wilderness. At the sight of the river their drowsiness suddenly disappears ; all fatigue is forgotten. Now they are keen, their bodies are imbued with new life ; and Mixer, hearing the screech of the locomotive, speaks his delight by wagging his tail and jumping all over me. The 99 small gripsacks are seized, the rods are tenderly- lifted, and as soon as the train rolls up to the station we hasten out of the car, thankful indeed to be back again among the dear old mountains. Nodding to familiar faces, shaking hands with the less timid natives, and giving instructions to the servants to follow as quickly as possible with the luggage, we jump into the two-seated trap and are whirled away for a delightful six miles up the valley of the Cascapedia to my fishing-lodge, Red Camp. What a charming sensation it gives one, as he speeds along the road, to inhale the fresh, bracing air perfumed with the healing fir and cedar ! No cares or troubles to worry about now. They are thrown to these delightful breezes, and the faster we go the sooner they disappear, until we are well content and at peace with all the world. On some door-step stands an old man waving his hands as we pass, welcoming our return. He once loved the sport, and the sight of our merry party doubtless brings fresh to his memory the happy days of his youth. Farther on a little handkerchief flutters in the wind, showing we are remembered by some gentle maid who has not forgotten a simple act of kindness. It is pleasant to have all this greeting, and to feel that we are with friends, although many miles separate us from our homes. Even the birds seem glad, for as we 100 Eed Camp roll ;i,li-ool<, wliosn WJiJfU'H, clonr jimM cryHlM,!, (iii IJio rivdf; ilic.ii up ;i, Hli^lil. knoll; juid ilidii, wilJi aw 0x1, rn, i'.nu'.k of Mio whip, ,'i,w."i.y wo wpood n.c.roMM IJk^ phiiii lo <*i, l»i^ whiio ?^''"d.iug during the killing. The fish is the little white streak close to the hank on the left side of the picture, but in an enlarged photograph of the same it is as distinct as the figures in the canoe. everything beautiful in Nature must die ; but it has been so ordained, and it is best not to think about it, for it only makes sadness." "To-morrow will be Sunday — how shall we amuse ourselves I " I ask. " Oh, do let us take a walk up White Brook," exclaims Mrs. Davis, " and see the wild flowers, and the wee trout in those lovely clear pools. It is perfect up there, and much more human than going after bear with Peter Coull." " By Jove ! " replied Napoleon, " I had forgotten all about the bear." " Unless you permit me to retire, I shall not be up in time to join you on the morrow for the delight- ful little trip ; if you will pardon me, I will take the big red candlestick. Bonne nuit ! " 137 THE FOURTH DAY ?0W did you ever discover such an interesting spot as that we visited to- day?" asked Napoleon, inhaling his cigarette on the veranda after our early Sunday tea. " One would imagine he was beside some tumbling brook in the midst of the Rockies. " " It is a rough place up there, is it not ? Ned and I, you know, in our Sunday rambles are al- ways exploring the country around Eed Camp. Did you like the pretty little wild flowers ? It is rather early for a great variety, but the mari- golds were beautiful and looked lovely in all their golden color. I am sure the perfume of the sweet- scented Maianthemum pleased you. And you must have admired the peculiar shade of the twisted stalk, and the Viola hlanda.''^ " They were all so beautiful and interesting, Mrs. Davis, that I shall long to have you take me again to the enchanted spot." " Yes ; later perhaps we can go, and it will then 138 be even more interesting, for a number of other varieties will be in bloom, and we can see the yel- low butterflies flitting about from one flower to another, inhaling their fragrance, while the bees are gathering their sweets." " If you would like to take a tramp, Heck, come with me some day and hunt the showy lady's-slip- per — the most beautiful of all the orchid family — and the mountain-laurel. They both grow in Maine, so I suppose they must be up here some- where, although I have never seen them." " When you find out, Ned, that they exist in Quebec, I will then gladly go with you in quest of the prize." " Do you believe in the transmigration of souls. Napoleon ? " " No ; of course I do not." " Well, if ever I am changed into a flower I hope it will be a beautiful white niphetos." " Why ? " asks Mrs. Davis. " Because it is my favorite flower, and inhaling its fragrance is like breathing the air of heaven. I could not live long, for they soon wither and fade." "Oh, I should prefer the everlasting," exclaims Mrs. Davis, laughing, " for then I could never die ! ' Sweet rose, thy root is ever in its grave, And thou must die.' " " Well, if some fairy should will that I must 139 exist as a flower," says Napoleon, "I suppose it would probably be something tall and dreadful, like the sunflower." "Do you know, Heck, that sunflowers are al- ways much admired by country maids ? " " No chaffing, Ned. Oh, I have had a charming day ! " exclaims Napoleon. " And when I think how the little trout we saw were darting about in those clear pools my mind dwells on the morrow, for then we fish again. The twilight dews are falling, so let us go in." 140 THREE WEEKS LATER 'HREE weeks have passed, and many a salmon has been entered in. the score- book at Red Camp. Mr. Heckscher has killed his bear; Mrs. Davis, a forty-four-pound salmon : and now the little party, standing at the landing, is about to start forth on its last day's sport together, for Napoleon, having decided to remain, is to join me on the morrow in the club fishing. As the sky is bright and the breeze fair, we are all up early for our morning's sport. It is my turn to fish in front of the camp. Pushing from the landing, the canoe is soon rest- ing at the head of one of the best pools on the river for late fishing. " Hello ! there 's one already," exclaims James. " Look — what a whirl ! Be careful, Mr. Davis ; the water is clear. About thirty feet will reach him." Casting toward the shore until the thirty feet are out, I send the No. 3 double Black Dose straight to the spot. A splash, and he is on. 141 " How splendidly he took the fly ! " exclaims James. " Bravo ! bravo ! " shouts William. " The first cast and — a salmon ! " Up and down stream, across, now back again, all kinds of antics does he kick in the bright, cool morning until we have him lying on the bank — a thirty-three-pounder. Paddling out again, the killick is dropped in about the same place; but although we see a large fish rise, I fail to lure him, as he probably prefers to continue his morn- ing slumber. Drifting a short distance down- stream, a few casts are made to the right, when, suddenly, something enormous rises from the bot- tom, and, as it disappears beneath the surface, the delicate dark leader is carefully watched. Gradu- ally it begins to sink. Now the hook is sent home, for I know the fly has been seized. " Good Lord, what a salmon ! " cry the men, as his broad tail strikes the water — a forty-five- pounder sure. " Keep the canoe as it is, James, until you know what he intends to do. I cannot move him. Quick ! up-stream. He 's off ! Whew ! a run of forty yards without a stop. There he jumps! Faster, James ! " I cry. " He is among the rocks ! The leader will surely be cut." " Give him the butt, sir, and turn him, if you can." 142 Harrison, the River- goddess, and William The rod bends and "He has gone!" I cry. "No, he is on ; he is coming back ! " Down the river he rushes, darting across the current and disappearing to sulk in thirty feet of water. Dropping below the fish, we cross to the other side, and, paddling up-stream, hold the canoe in readiness beside the ledge. " To win thy smile I speed from shore to shore, While Hope's sweet voice is heard in ev'ry breeze." " He can't stand that strain much longer, Mr. Davis." " Nor I, either, James. Look at the tip ; it is three feet under water." " Don't let up, sir ; he will soon give in. Yes, there he comes now ! " Slowly the rod is raised, and, looking down into the depths of that deep pool, I see a bright form boring steadily downward. " Now he 's coming up, sir ; pull a little harder." Grradually the huge fish comes to the surface and, with a tremendous leap, tries for the current ; but the struggle has been too severe : the spark of life has fled. So, gently drawing this beautiful creature toward me, I thrill with joy when the river-goddess finds a safe resting-place in my canoe. " Have you ever seen so large a salmon, James ? " 143 " None that was killed with a fly, sir ; but my father tells of one which was speared many years ago weighing over sixty pounds." " Well, let us go to the house now and see if this one has lived luxuriously ; for should Dame Fortune be kind and bring the scale down to the fifty- pound notch my ambition in life will be fulfilled and my happiness complete. Lift gently, James — forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty pounds ! " I cry. " Hurrah ! the spring marks fifty, and the fair one's broad dark train still sweeps the ground." Then, laying her upon a fern-covered bier, we tenderly bear her to the dining-room and gaze with admiration and regret on the splendor of her raiment and symmetry of form. Even Mixer realizes that something unusual has happened as he stands in the awed presence. Presently Mrs. Davis and Napoleon come in for breakfast, each with a fine big fish ; but at the sight of this beau- tiful river-goddess both exclaim : " Ned, did you kill that salmon ? " " Yes ; and now, after trying to do it for thirteen years, I wish you were the guilty ones instead of me." This fish was hooked just before seven o'clock and landed soon after. Its weight, at the Casca- pedia station several hours later, was fifty and one half pounds. I will not weary my readers with the story of my 144 other large salmon, taken the following year. It weighed fifty-one and one half pounds fifteen hours after it had been killed. The salmon was hooked about eight-thirty o'clock at night, but owing to the lateness of the hour we were unable to gaff the fish until a few minutes after nine. It was most unfortunate that the scales in camp were not heavy enough to have weighed these two large salmon, for they must have lost two pounds or more before they arrived at the station. They were entered in the score-book as weighing fifty-one and fifty-two pounds. 145 THE CLUB WATEE ?0W mucli wilder the scenery is up here than in the lower part of the river ! " remarks Napoleon, as we pole along in Indian fashion on our way to De Winton's, one of the most treacherous pools on the club water, owing to the great number of sharp rocks just below the surface, like pinnacles on some lofty cathedral. " Yes, it is wild here, and that is the reason I love to fish this part of the river. Well may it be called the ' Devil's Trap,' and fortunate indeed is the angler who can boast success in this weird spot. Here we are. Heck, at De Winton's. Jump into my boat with me, and we will sally forth to win fresh laurels. Cast now toward the trees, just where the rapids commence, and as soon as thou hookest a salmon, pull gently, while the men, with sockets turned, will pole to the foot of yonder ledge, and if all goes well thy fish will lead easily." " But I think you had better show me the trick, 146 for I have naver seen a salmon led thirty yards up-stream when first hooked." " With pleasure, if you like ; but should he re- verse the situation aud lead us a merry dance down the river through the ' Devil's Lane,' hold fast to the canoe when we strike the rapids, for we are loaded heavily, and I care not for a wetting to-day." Away goes the small Black Dose, and, falling lightly on the ripple, is quickly seized. " Hurry with the killick, William ; he is leading finely. If we can reach the ledge there will be no danger." " How wonderful the way you lead him ! " ex- claims Napoleon. "Do not breathe, Heck; he may turn at any moment. Yes, by Jove, he is getting suspicious ! Take the paddle quick, James ! Yes, I thought so ; there he goes. Now for a run." " Are you all right ? " I ask, as I observe Napo- leon lying on his stomach across the thwart, while I, slipping from the seat, rest upon my knees as we go fiying down the rapids. "I have been more comfortable," replies Napo- leon. " Do not look after me ; watch the salmon ! What splendid leaps he is making ! Shall we save him ? " " I think so." Entering the second rapids, I manage to turn the fish a short distance down the run ; but before we 147 cau stop the canoe the salmon has passed us on his way up-stream, rejoicing in having severed the leader. " Go, then," I cry, " and tell thy companions thou didst win a costly leader and fine feathers at the battle of De Winton's." " Oh, what a shame ! " exclaims Napoleon. " How did it happen 1 " " Cut by one of the little devils beneath," I re- ply, " which go rolling along during the freshet." Another salmon is hooked and lost in the same pool. Wearying of such sport, we pull up traps and proceed leisurely up the river to find some shady spot where we may enjoy our midday meal and recover from the morning's disappointment. " How would you like a trout for luncheon to- day. Napoleon?" " Nothing you could give me would please me more ; but how can we get one ? " " Easy enough," I replied. " Stand on the edge of yonder ledge and cast a little to the right of the eddy, and before the fire with which we shall cook him is kindled you shall pull one forth which shall surpass in size ' twenty-one inches and whose belly,' like Izaak Walton's trout, ' shall look some part of it as yellow as a marigold, a part of it as white as a lily.' " Napoleon casts and quickly lands a four-pounder. " Did I not tell you ? What would good Wal- 148 ton have said, Heck, if he could have known such sport as this ? Many more of this same size could he lay before him simply for the casting on this ledge, and then indeed might his song in praise of angling well be sung : '■ Oh, gallant fisher life, It is the best of any j 'T is full of pleasure. Void of strife, And 't is beloved of many/" " Well," says Napoleon, " Izaak's trout and pike may have been well cooked and his ale well brewed, but the savory smell of this four-pounder under the blue sky, with a slender alder for the gridiron, the ledge for our table, the rushing river for our nectar, is more to my liking than any indoor feast." " Nothing could be more delightful or have more charm than lunching on the bank of this swiftly running stream. But do you not think, Heck, that a few drops of this old Kentucky would improve the river a bit and induce you to give us some of the old Elizabethan stanzas that Walton quotes ? " " Here are two of them," replies Napoleon, " but if I get them wrong you must pardon me. ' " Come live with me, and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That hOls and valleys, dales and fields, And all the steepy mountain yields." 149 ' " If all the world and love were young, And truth in ev'ry shepherd's tongue, These pretty pleasures might me move To live with thee, and be thy love." ' " " Well sung, Heck. You have amused the men as well as me — they are all looking at you in admiration. Now let us go down to the Slide ^ for the evening's fishing." " ' T was there at twilight " we " stole, When the first star announced the night For" those "who claimed our inmost soul," To angle " by that soothing light." Napoleon has taken two fish — twenty-nine and twenty-four pounds. As it is getting quite late, and difficult to see the fly when it alights on the pool, he asks me to fish the last drop. I put on a large Silver GTray and send it whisking into the darkness. The water parts, a vision of beauty appears, a silvery salmon leaps forth, the sparkling drops falling from his body, like some wild spirit moving across the water. As the pale moon rose up slowly above the green firs on the mountain- side and cast its beams on our frail little craft floating quietly on that dark, shadowy pool, we realized the grandeur of our surroundings and the fascination of the art. 1 Where part of a cliff had fallen and slid into the river. 150 The Slide -lO' " Take the rod, Heck, and play the fish." " No, no," he cried ; "I am perfectly content. Win the fight, for such a picture will never appear again." As we go rushing down the stream the bright silvery streak shoots forward in the shade of the dark mountain. Up-stream it glistens, bursting forth in the bright moonlight ; then back again it speeds, to be lost as suddenly in the darkness. What frantic attempts to disappear ! But at last, wearying of its efforts, this wonderful wild spirit is finally conquered, and lifting a thirty-six-pound salmon into the canoe, we gaze upon its beauty in the moonlit pool. " This is the dream of salmon-fishing ! " exclaims Napoleon, as we paddle toward camp. 151 CONCLUSION WEEK at Middle Camp was delight- fully spent cruising up and down the river in the company of my friend. Ever ready for the early morning's fishing, content to rest during the heat of the day, to lunch in some cool place on the bank, and always pleasant and kind to his canoemen, he was the type of a true angler. With what joy he wel- comed the words of the canoemen, " Time to go fishing, Mr. Davis ! " Jumping up at once and lighting a cigarette, he would soon have us drifting down-stream toward some favorite pool, where in the twilight many a big salmon was lifted into the canoe as we heard the plaintive melody of the white- throated sparrow coming from the dark forest. But all joys must have an ending. Bidding farewell to the enchanted spot, we enter the canoes for a ten-mile run down the river to Red Camp, where Mrs. Davis joyfully greets us. Our fishing trip is over : the day of leaving has arrived. As the train rolls up to bear us away, longing eyes are turned toward the distant mountains. 152 JUN 17 1904 copy DpL TO CAT. OIV JUN. 17 1904 UUN 21 1904