ess to refresh and cool. In many
nicely sheltered corners it was full of soft reflection as to the good
it had to do; and then, in silver and golden runnels, on it went to do
it. And the happy voice and many sweetly flashing little glances told
that it knew of the lovely lives beside it, created and comforted by
itself.

But I looked at the dark ruin it had wrought, and like a child I was
angry with it for the sake of Uncle Sam. Only the foundations and the
big heavy stones of the mill were left, and the clear bright water
purled around, or made little eddies among them. All were touched
with silvery sound, and soft caressing dimples. But I looked at the
passionate mountains first, to be sure of no more violence; for if a
burned child dreads the fire, one half drowned may be excused for little
faith in water. The mountains in the sunshine looked as if nothing could
move their grandeur, and so I stepped from stone to stone, in the bed of
the placid brightness.

Presently I came to a place where one of the great black piles, driven
in by order of the Sawyer, to serve as a back-stay for his walls, had
been swept by the flood from its vertical sinking, but had not been
swept away. The square tarred post of mountain pine reclined down
stream, and gently nodded to the current's impact. But overthrown as it
was, it could not make its exit and float away, as all its brethren
had done. At this I had wondered before, and now I went to see what the
reason was. By throwing a short piece of plank from one of the shattered
foundations into a nick in the shoulder of the reclining pile, I managed
to get there and sit upon it, and search for its obstruction.

The water was flowing smoothly toward me, and as clear as crystal, being
scarcely more than a foot in depth. And there, on the upper verge of the
hole, raised by the leverage of the butt from the granite sand of the
river-bed, I saw a great bowlder of rich yellow light. I was so much
amazed that I cried out at once, "Oh! what a beautiful great yellow
fish!" And I shouted to Jowler, who had found where I was, and followed
me, as usual. The great dog was famous for his love of fishing, and had
often brought a fine salmon forth.

Jowler was always a zealous fellow, and he answered eagerly to my call
by dashing at once into the water, and following the guidance of my
hand. But when he saw what I pointed at, he was bitterly disappointed,
and gave me to understand as much by looking