ywhere and some fresh sign, where the grass
had been turned recently, and also much old and fresh sign where the
elk had skinned the saplings by rubbing their antlers to get rid of
the velvet. Some of these rubs looked like blazes made by an axe. The
Airedale Fox, a wonderful dog, routed out a she-coyote that evidently
had a den somewhere, for she barked angrily at the dog and at us. Fox
could not catch her. She led him round in a circle, and we could not
see her in the thick brush. It was fine to hear the wild staccato note
again.

We crossed many little parks, bright and green, blooming with wild
asters and Indian paint brush and golden daisies. The patches of red
and purple were exceedingly beautiful. Everywhere we rode we were knee
deep in flowers. At length we came out of the heavy timber down upon
Big Fish Lake. This lake was about half a mile across, deep blue-green
in color, with rocky shores. Upon the opposite side were beaver
mounds. We could see big trout swimming round, but they would not rise
to a fly. R.C. went out in an old boat and paddled to the head of the
lake and fished at the inlet. Here he caught a fine trout. I went
around and up the little river that fed the lake. It curved swiftly
through a meadow, and had deep, dark eddies under mossy, flowering
banks. At other places the stream ran swiftly over clean gravel beds.
It was musical and clear as crystal, and to the touch of hand, as cold
as ice water. I waded in and began to cast. I saw several big trout,
and at last coaxed one to take my fly. But I missed him. Then in a
swift current a flash of red caught my eye and I saw a big trout
lazily rise to my fly. Saw him take it! And I hooked him. He was not
active, but heavy and plunging, and he bored in and out, and made
short runs. I had not seen such beautiful red colors in any fish. He
made a fine fight, but at last I landed him on the grass, a cutthroat
of about one and three-quarter pounds, deep red and silver and green,
and spotted all over. That was the extent of my luck.

We went back to the point, and thought we would wait a little while to
see if the trout would begin to rise. But they did not. A storm began
to mutter and boom along the battlements. Great gray clouds obscured
the peaks, and at length the rain came. It was cold and cutting. We
sought the shelter of spruces for a while, and waited. After an hour
it cleared somewhat, and R.C. caught a fine one-pound cutthroat, all
green and si