r of a fly dropping
softly on the farther edge of the pool--and then the shriek of your
reel, buzzing up the quiet hillside, was answered by a loud snort, as
the deer that lived there bounded away in alarm, calling her two fawns
to follow. But you scarcely noticed; your head and hands were too full,
trying to keep the big trout away from the lily pads, where you would
certainly lose him with your light tackle.

On the afternoon of which I write the trout were neither playful nor
sullen. No more were they hungry. The first cast of my midget flies
across the pool brought no answer. That was good; the little fish had
been ordered out, evidently. Larger flies followed; but the big trout
neither played with them nor let them alone. They followed cautiously, a
foot astern, to the near edge of the lily pads, till they saw me and
swirled down again to their cool haunts. They were suspicious clearly;
and with the lower orders, as with men, the best rule in such a case is
to act naturally, with more quietness than usual, and give them time to
get over their suspicion.

As I waited, my flies resting among the pads near the canoe, curious
sounds came floating down the hillside--_Prut, prut, pr-r-r-rt!
Whit-kwit? whit-kwit? Pr-r-rt, pr-r-rt! Ooo-it, ooo-it? Pr-r-reeee_!
this last with a swift burr of wings. And the curious sounds, half
questioning, half muffled in extreme caution, gave a fleeting impression
of gliding in and out among the tangled underbrush. "A flock of
partridges--ruffed grouse," I thought, and turned to listen more
intently.

The shadows had grown long, with a suggestion of coming night; and other
ears than mine had heard the sounds with interest. A swifter shadow fell
on the water, and I looked up quickly to see a big owl sail silently out
from the opposite hill and perch on a blasted stub overlooking the pool.
Kookooskoos had been sleeping in a dark spruce when the sounds waked
him, and he started out instantly, not to hunt--it was still too
bright--but to locate his game and follow silently to the roosting
place, near which he would hide and wait till the twilight fell darkly.
I could see it all in his attitude as he poised forward, swinging his
round head to and fro, like a dog on an air trail, locating the flock
accurately before he should take another flight.

Up on the hillside the eager sounds had stopped for a moment, as if some
strange sixth sense had warned the birds to be silent. The owl was
puzzl