I presently gave myself up to the pure enjoyment of the
tumult and exhilaration, without disturbing myself as to dangers here or
hereafter.

I do not believe the times that the guides got out of the canoes to ease
them over hard places would exceed twice, and not oftener than that were
we called on to assist them with the paddles. Even when we wished to do
so, we were often requested to go on fishing, for the reason, I suppose,
that in such a place one's unskilled efforts are likely to be
misdirected with fatal results. Somewhat later we were to have an
example of this kind--but I anticipate.

We went on fishing. I never saw so many fish. We could take them as we
shot a rapid, we could scoop them in as we leaped a fall. They seemed to
be under every stone and lying in wait. There were great black fellows
in every maelstrom; there were groups holding receptions for us in the
stillwater pools below. It is likely that that bit of the Shelburne
River had not been fished before within the memory of any trout then
living, and when those red and blue and yellow flies came tumbling at
them, they must have thought it was great day in the morning and that
the white-faced prophets of big feeding had come. For years, the trout
we returned to those pools will tell their friends and descendants of
the marvels and enchantments of that day.

I had given up my noibwood as being too strenuous in its demands for
constant fishing, but I laid aside the light bamboo here in this
high-pressure current and with this high-speed fishing, where trout
sometimes leaped clear of the water for the fly cast on the foam far
ahead, to be swinging a moment later at the end of the line almost as
far behind. No very delicate rod would improve under a strain like that,
and the tough old noibwood held true, and nobody cared--at least I
didn't--whether the tip stayed set or not. It was bent double most of
the time, anyway, and the rest of the time didn't matter.

I don't know how many fish I took that day, but Eddie kept count of his,
and recorded a total of seventy-four between camp and the great,
splendid pool where the Shelburne foams out into Sand Lake, four miles
or such a matter, below.

I do know that we lost two landing nets in that swift water, one apiece,
and this was a serious matter, for there were but two more, both
Eddie's, and landing nets in the wilderness are not easy to replace. Of
fish we kept possibly a dozen, the smallest ones. The o