The Greatest Works of Emerson Hough – 19 Books in One Volume (Illustrated Edition). Emerson Hough
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Dick; “or it was last year, when I was in here. The trout don’t run so very large, but they strike well and they are mighty good to eat.”
“What’s this old hump we’re on?” inquired Jesse, looking down curiously at his feet. They were standing on a rude pile of poles and sticks which extended well out into the lake.
“Guess,” said Uncle Dick.
“I know,” said Rob at once — “beaver!”
“Right. It’s one of the biggest beaver-houses I ever saw in my life. You’ll find beaver sign all around this lake, but I suppose they caught the last one — maybe old Swift could tell who got him, or some of his Indian friends. So all we’ll use the old beaver-house for is as a kind of pier to stand on while we fish — the trees come so close to the lake that it is hard to get a back-cast here.”
“Well,” said Jesse, “over there to the end of the lake is a sort of point that runs out in — where it is rocky, with little trees and grass.”
“A splendid place to fish, too,” said his uncle. “Now if you and John want to go around there, Rob and I will stay here and try it. But you’ll have to be careful in crossing that marsh at the head of the lake. That’s a beaver marsh — and just to show you how old our trail is that I was mentioning, you will probably find the marsh was made later than the trail was. But you can follow it along the edge of the lake for quite a ways. It’s all full of bogs and beaver-dams farther up the valley, beyond the lake.”
“Come on, Jess,” said John, “and we’ll go over there where we can get out a good long line.”
These boys were all of them fearless, from their outdoor training in their Alaskan home, so without hesitation the two younger members of the party started out alone and presently, after some running and splashing across the wet marsh, they reached the rocky point which they had mentioned.
“My, but this is a pretty lake!” said Jesse, standing for a time admiring the beautiful sheet of water that lay before them.
“It certainly is all alone,” said John. “I saw a trail back in there which I’ll bet was made by caribou. And there’s beaver in here yet, I’m sure.”
“Yes, and trout,” exclaimed Jesse. “Look at that fellow rise! We’ll get some sure. What fly are you going to use, John?”
“Let’s try the Coachman — I’ve noticed that in the mountains trout nearly always run at something white, and the white wings look as good as anything to me.”
“All right,” said Jesse, and soon they were both casting as far as they could from the shore.
“Out there is a sort of reef or rocks,” said John; “I’ll bet there’s fish there. Now if I could — Aha!” he cried. “Got him! No!” he exclaimed, a minute later. “There’s two!”
As a matter of fact, John was a good caster for one of his age, and he had laid out thirty or forty feet of line when there came a silvery flash from below, followed by a second one, as two fine trout fastened at his two flies.
“I can hardly hold them, Jess,” said he, “but my! don’t they look fine down in that clear water? Rainbows, both of them, and about a pound each, I think.”
It was some time before John could control his two hard-fighting fish; but after a time, with Jesse assisting, he got them out on the hard gravel beach.
“Now you try out there, Jess,” said he. “Cast out there where the bottom looks black — that’s where they lie.”
“All right,” said Jesse; and, to be sure, he had fished but a few moments before a splash and a tug told him that he too had hooked a fine trout.
“This is great, John, isn’t it?” exclaimed he. “And how they do fight! We never had any trout up in Alaska that fought this hard. Even the salmon we caught on Kadiak Island didn’t pull much harder.”
When finally they had landed Jesse’s trout they stood at the beach and, holding up their prizes, gave a shout, which was answered by Rob from the other side of the lake. He also held up something in his hand which was white and glistening.
“They’re having good luck, too,” said he. “Well, now let’s settle down and get a mess of trout, for I am like Moise, tired of eating bacon all the time.”
They did settle down, and, each finding a good casting-place on the rocky point, they so skilfully plied their rods that in a short time they had a dozen fine trout between them. As their companions seemed to have stopped fishing by this time, they also reeled up their lines and started back across the marsh.
“Pretty good luck, eh?” said Uncle Dick, as they admiringly held up their string of fish. “Well, Rob and I have got about as many here.”
“Didn’t they fight hard, though?” asked Rob. “I never saw fish of their size make such trouble.”
“The water is very cold,” said Uncle Dick, “and that makes the fish very firm and active. I don’t know just what they eat, but I suppose there must be some little minnows in the lake. Then there are some insects on warm days; and perhaps they get some kind of ground feed once in a while.”
“They’re all rainbows, aren’t they?” said Rob. “As near as I can tell, they look like the rainbows on the Pacific slope. How did they get over here?”
“How did they get into any of the streams in the United States east of the Rocky summit?” asked Uncle Dick. “Nobody can answer that. Of course, all the rainbows in the Eastern states are planted there. But when you get up on the marsh of the Yellowhead Pass, where the water doesn’t know which way to run, you will wonder if sometime in the past the Pacific trout didn’t swim into Atlantic waters — just as they are said to have done at the Two-Ocean Pass, south of the Yellowstone Park. Nature has her own way of doing things, and, as she has had plenty of time, we don’t always know just how she did some things.”
“I wonder,” said Jesse, as he looked around him at the great mountains, “if these old mountains ever have a good time off by themselves in here. They’re awfully old, aren’t they?”
“I’m awfully hungry,” said John. “Let’s go on back to camp.”
Uncle Dick smiled and led the way into the thick underbrush once more. They had a stiff climb before they reached the summit of their ridge where the timber broke away and gave them once more their splendid view out over the Miette valley and the mountains beyond. They ran rapidly down this fair slope and soon were in camp, where Moise greeted them with much joy.
“By gar!” said he, “those boy, she’ll get feesh, eh? What I tole you, Monsieur Deek?”
The day was yet young, but at the earnest request of his young companions Uncle Dick consented to rest one day and allow the horses to graze, as he had promised. Therefore the boys had plenty of time that afternoon to prowl around in the neighborhood of the camp: and that night Moise, having also had abundant time to prepare his supper, offered them boiled trout, fried trout, and griddled trout, until even John at least was obliged to cry “Enough.”
XI
THE PASS
It seemed to our Young Alaskans that Uncle Dick was nothing if not a hard taskmaster on the trail, for before the sun was up he was calling them out of their tents.
“Come now,” he warned them; “get out of those blankets at once! You’ve had a good day’s fishing, and now we’ll have to make a good day’s travel to pay up for it.”
Tired from their tramp of the day before, they all groaned protestingly; but Moise also called out from his fireside, “Hello, young mans! Suppose you’ll got up and eat some more trout, eh?”
“I