hat rise abruptly from the enigmatic
pools. And there is the active beauty of the many rapids, those
piled-up and rushing masses of angry water, tossing and foaming in
pent-up force through rock gates and over rocks.

He tried the adventure of these rapids, shooting through the tortured
waters that look so beautiful from the shore and so terrible from the
frail structure of a canoe, until it seemed to him as though not even
the skill of his guides could steer through safely. He got through
safely, but only after an experience which he described as the most
exciting in his life.

The fishing itself proved disappointing. The famous speckled trout of
Nipigon did not rise to the occasion, and the sport was fair, but not
extraordinary. The best day brought in twenty-seven fish, the largest
being three and a half pounds, not a good specimen of the lake's trout,
which go to six and eight pounds in the ordinary course of things.

And the disappointment had an irony of its own. The man who caught the
most fish was the man who couldn't fish at all. The official
photographer, who had gone solely to take snapshots, also took the
maximum of fish out of the river. Indeed, he was so much of an amateur
that the first fish he caught placed him in such a predicament that he
did not play it, but landed it with so vigorous a jerk that it flew
over his head and caught high in a fir. An Indian guide had to climb
the tree to "land" it.

Nevertheless, he caught the most fish, and when he returned with his
spoil, the Prince said to him:

"Look here, don't you realize I'm the one to do that? You're taking my
place in the program."

The reason for the indifferent sport was probably the lateness of the
season--it was practically finished when the Prince arrived--and the
fact that Nipigon had had a record summer, with large parties of
sportsmen working its reaches steadily all the time. The fish were
certainly shy, particularly, it seemed, of fly, and the best catches
were made with a small fish, a sort of bull-headed minnow called
cocatoose, that creeps about close to the rocks.

Of course, trout, even if famous, are naturally temperamental. They
will rise in dozens at unexpected times, just as they will refuse all
temptations for weeks on end. An Englishman, and no mean fisherman,
once went to Nipigon to show the local inhabitants how fishing should
be done. A master in British waters, he considered the speckled
monsters of