w, the rushing water;
overhead, the blue sky; on either side, the green of June--the treetops
full of the setting sun. Out over the foaming current, skimming just
above the surface, the flies would go sailing, sailing--you thought they
would never light. They did not go with a swish and a jump, but seemed
noiselessly to drift away, as if the lightly swinging rod had little to
do with the matter, as if they were alive, in fact, looking for a place
to settle in some cozy nook of water where a trout would be sure to be.
And the trout were there. It was not the empty tub-fishing of a
sportsman's show. The gleam and splash in the pool that seemed
remote--that was perhaps thirty yards away in fact--marked the casting
limit, and the sharp curve of the rod, and the play to land were more
inspiring than any measure of distance or clapping of hands.

Charles himself became so inspired at length with his handsome fishing
that he made a rash statement. He declared that he could take five trout
in fifteen minutes. He offered to bet a dollar that he could do it. I
rather thought he could myself, for the fish were there, and they were
not running over large. Still, it was no easy matter to land them in
that swift water, and it would be close work. The show would be worth a
dollar, even if I lost. Wherefore, I scoffed at his boast and took the
bet.

No stipulations were made as to the size of the trout, nor the manner in
which they should be taken, nor as to any special locality. It was
evident from our guide's preparation that he had evolved certain ideas
of his own in the matter. Previously he had been trying to hook a big
fish, but it was pretty evident that he did not want any big fish now.
There was a little brook--a run-around, as it were--that left the main
water just below the dam and came in again at the big pool several
hundred yards below. We had none of us touched this tumbling bit of
water. It was his idea that it would be full of little trout. He wanted
something he could lift out with no unnecessary delay, for time that is
likely to be worth over six cents a minute is too expensive to waste in
fancy sportsmanship. He selected a short rod and put on some tiny flies.
Then he took his position; we got out our watches and called time.

Now, of course, one of the most uncertain things in life to gamble on is
fishing. You may pick your place, your day and your time of day. The
combination may seem perfect. Yet the fact remai