ers. A
pair of these noisy and diligent birds had their nest of six little ones
in a hole in the red bluff just above the run, and they took ceaseless
tribute from the finny tribes of the river. Like an azure arrow one of
them would dart down into the river with a loud splash, and flap up
again, usually, with a gleaming trout or parr held firmly between the
edges of his great beak. If he missed his shot and came up with empty
beak, he would fly off up the river with a harsh, clattering,
startlingly loud cry of indignation and protest. Several times one or
other of these troublesome foragers dropped into the run. The dappling
of the shadow and sun, however, from the cedar, was a protection to the
dwellers in this run; and only twice was the fishing there successful.
The second little trout, and one more of the parr, were carried off.
Then the birds forsook that particular bit of ripple and hunted easier
waters.

In leaping at the flies which came down the surface of the run the
little salmon one day got a severe but invaluable lesson. A large and
gaudy fly, unlike anything that he had ever encountered before, appeared
on the ripples over his head. Still more unlike those which he had
encountered before, it did not hurry downward with the water, but
maintained its position in a most mysterious fashion. While the parr
eyed it curiously, wondering whether to try it or not, it suddenly moved
straight up against the current, and was followed at a short distance by
another queer-looking big fly, green and brown like a grasshopper.
Excited by the strange behaviour of these two strangers, the parr rose
sharply and hit the green fly with his tail, intending to drown it and
investigate it at his leisure. To his astonishment both flies instantly
disappeared. Chagrined and puzzled, he dropped back to the tail of the
run, sulking.

[Illustration: "HELD FIRMLY BETWEEN THE EDGES OF HIS GREAT BEAK."]

A moment later, however, the two flies reappeared, slipping very slowly
down the current, mounting up again directly in the teeth of it,
sometimes dancing on the surface, sometimes sinking a little below it,
but always remaining the same distance apart, and always behaving in a
manner mysteriously independent of the power of the stream. For a few
seconds the parr eyed them with distrust. Then growing excited by their
strange actions, he dashed forward fiercely and caught the gaudy red fly
in his jaws. There was a prick, a twitch, a frig