g the same fish twice, both marks plainly showing on him when
taken) and the new kind of exercise and experience he gets at the end of
the line, and his momentary association with human beings, constitute
for him a valuable asset, perhaps to be retailed in the form of
reminiscence throughout old age. But to fling him into a canoe, to gasp
and die and be thrown away, that is a different matter. That is a crime
worse than stealing a man's lunch or his last dry undershirt, or even
his whisky.

In the first place, kill your trout the moment you take him out of the
water--that is, if you mean to eat him. If he is too big, or if you
already have enough, put him back with all expedition and let him swim
away. Even if he does warn the other trout and spoil the fishing in that
pool, there are more pools, and then it is likely you have fished enough
in that one, anyway. Come back next year and have another battle with
him. He will be bigger and know better what to do then. Perhaps it will
be his turn to win.

In the matter of killing a fish there are several ways to do it. Some
might prefer to set him up on the bank and shoot at him. Another way
would be to brain him with an ax. The guides have a way of breaking a
trout's neck by a skillful movement which I never could duplicate. My
own method is to sever the vertebrae just back of the ears--gills, I
mean--with the point of a sharp knife. It is quick and effective.

I don't know why I am running on with digression and advice this way.
Perhaps because about this period I had had enough experience to feel
capable of giving advice. A little experience breeds a lot of advice. I
knew a man once----[3]

FOOTNOTES:

[3] The publisher wished me to go on with the story at this point. The
man referred to above got his experience in Wall Street. He got enough
in half a day to keep him in advice for forty-seven years.

Chapter Fourteen

_Oh, never a voice to answer here,_
_And never a face to see--_
_Mid chill and damp we build our camp_
_Under the hemlock tree._

Chapter Fourteen

In spite of the rains the waters of the Shelburne were too low at this
point to descend in the canoes. The pools were pretty small affairs and
the rapids long, shallow and very ragged. It is good sport to run rapids
in a canoe when there is plenty of swift water and a fair percentage of
danger. But these were dangerous only to the canoes, which in many
places would not even