every morning I noticed a man would come down along the bank
of the river and go in the direction of the mill. Sometimes he would
stop and watch me for a few minutes, and then pass on without saying
anything. But one morning he came along when I happened to be sitting
close to his path. I looked up and gave the usual morning nod. The
gentleman, for such he proved to be, inquired what luck I was having.
I replied that I guessed it must be fisherman's luck, for I got but
few fish. He replied that he thought that there were very few bass in
the dam, as there was so much fishing done there.

I was quite sure that he was right from the number of fish I caught,
and I could see a number of others scattered about the pond, and some
on the logs, some on the boom timbers and some in boats. The next
morning I was back at my old post, and this man came along as usual.
He stopped, laughed and said that I seemed to have plenty of faith. I
replied that the occasion demanded great faith. He inquired if I
lived in the city. I told him that I lived in Pennsylvania and was
only out in that country to see the sights and get a few fish and a
little venison and later might try to get a little fur.

He informed me that his name was Nettel (Charles Nettel) that he was
a lumber inspector and that he was going to have a vacation the next
week. He intended going to the North Fork of the Clearwater on Elk
Creek, where he had a camp, and that if I wished to fill up on trout
and venison, I had better join him, as he had no one selected to
accompany him yet. I said, "Thank you, I would be pleased to do so,"
as quick as I could, for fear he would change his mind. I now dropped
my bass fishing and would drop into the mill where Mr. Nettel was at
work and catch a few minutes chat with my new-found friend, as an
opportunity would occur, until the time came to go to Mr. Nettel's
camp. As I had a complete outfit, including blankets, tin plates,
cups, knives, and forks, a takedown or folding stove with the
necessary cooking utensils, which I had not yet unpacked, we
concluded to take the whole kit along so that if anything had
happened at Mr. Nettel's camp we would have a tent as well as the
other camp outfit, but we found Mr. Nettel's shack all right. We took
a train to near a place called Orofino on the Clearwater River in
Idaho where we repacked our outfit, putting it into sacks.

We engaged a man with two pack horses to take our plunder to camp
which