from his guide, there was a little dipping
movement in the water at his feet and the first trout of the expedition
was a visible fact--his golden belly and scarlet markings the subject of
admiration and comment.

It was not a very big fish by Nova Scotia standards--about
three-quarters of a pound, I believe; but it was the largest trout I had
ever seen alive, at that time, and I was consumed with envy. I was also
rash. A little more, and I had a rod up, was out on a log engaged in a
faithful effort to swing that rod exactly like Eddie's and to land the
fly precisely in the same place.

But for some reason the gear wouldn't work. In front of me, the fly fell
everywhere but in the desired spot, and back of me the guides dodged and
got behind bushes. You see, a number three steel hook sailing about
promiscuously in the air, even when partially concealed in a fancy bunch
of feathers, is a thing to be avoided. I had a clear field in no time,
but perhaps Eddie had caught the only fish in the pool, for even he
could get no more rises. Still I persisted and got hot and fierce, and
when I looked at Eddie I hated him because he didn't cut his hair, and
reflected bitterly that it was no wonder a half-savage creature like
that could fish. Finally I hooked a tree top behind me and in jerking
the fly loose made a misstep and went up to my waist in water. The
tension broke then--I helped to break it--and the fishing trip had
properly begun.

The wagons had left us now, and we were alone with our canoes and our
guides. Del, the stout, who was to have my especial fortunes in hand,
knelt in the stern of the larger canoe and I gingerly entered the bow.
Then Eddie and his guide found their respective places in the lighter
craft and we were ready to move. A moment more and we would drop down
the stream to the lake, and so set out on our long journey.

I recall now that I was hot and wet and still a little cross. I had
never had any especial enthusiasm about the expedition and more than
once had regretted my pledge made across the table at the end of the old
year. Even the bustle of preparation and the journey into a strange land
had only mildly stirred me, and I felt now that for me, at least, things
were likely to drag. There were many duties at home that required
attention. These woods were full of mosquitoes, probably malaria. It was
possible that I should take cold, be very ill and catch no fish
whatever. But then suddenly we droppe