ruly it was a fine one, for that night it weighed five and
three-quarter pounds.

"Hurry, John--your turn now!" shouted Jess. "They're the fightingest
fish you ever saw."

John began casting, while Jesse watched, working his fly to where he saw
a heavy fish moving. An instant and he struck, the reel screeching as
the fish made its run. This time the fish did not jump, but played deep,
boring and surging, but at last John conquered it and Jesse slipped the
net under it.

"My! It's just like a big brook trout," said he. "I'll bet he'll go over
five pounds."

"No," said John, sagely. "That's a Dolly Varden--looks a lot like a
brook trout, but look at the blue ring around the red spots. They fight
deep--don't jump like a rainbow. But the steelhead out jumps them all!
Did you ever see such fishing! This beats the Arctic trout on Rat
Portage."

They followed down the pond made by the dam, and literally one or other
of the three was all the time playing a fish, and they all ran very
large. When at last they answered the supper horn, Rob had five fish,
John four, and Jesse two--the last a fine, fat grayling, the first he
had ever taken below the Arctic Circle.

Uncle Dick's eyes opened very wide. "Well, Billy," said he, "you've made
good! I never saw so many big trout taken that soon in any water I ever
knew!"

"They get a lot of feed in that stream," said Billy. "The watercress
holds a lot of stuff they eat, and there must be minnows in there, too.
I've heard lots of men say that, for big fish, this beats any water they
ever knew."

"Oh, maybe they don't run as big as they did," said Mrs. Culver; "I've
known several rainbows over ten pounds taken here. One gentleman came
for specimens to mount, and he caught a five-pound rainbow, but his
friend made him throw it back because it was too little. Then they
fished two days and didn't get any more rainbow at all; they're so
savage, I think they get caught first. But you've got some good ones,
haven't you? Well, I like to see a person have some sport when he comes
here."

"How long have you lived here, Mrs. Culver?" asked Billy, that night at
the dinner table.

"Oh, all my life, it seems," she laughed. "I was here early, in the
'nineties, when Mr. Brower came to get to the head of Hell Roaring. That
was in 1895. He and my husband, Mr. William N. Culver, and Mr. Isaac
Jacques went up there horseback. They called that Hell Roaring Canyon
then, and I think most folks do