, 1891-08-02
PUFFs FROM THE PouDRE,
An Idyl OF theP Pretty Stream so Pop
uIar With Cheyenne People.

The evening breeze blew gently up the
valley of the Poudre. whispering tales of
the sunburnt plains to the river which
rippled by, complaining of the journey
which lay before it. Even Joe Pratt telt
at peace as he lay in the dense shade of a
cotton wood grove writing a letter to his
friend B. 1t read as follows:
My DEAR B.-Since we last met ]
have little to relate. Few of my fish
weighed more than FIVE pounds, one only
gave me sport. About this | will tell
you.
There is in the Poudre canyon a deep
reach of water. There are large fish in
it, but they will not take a fly. When
hooked they break the line. the one ex-
ception being where a fish pulled the
man in and he was never seen again.
This did not daunt me, so putting on
my celebrated fly. which l call the Carey
Angle because 1t is so truly good on clear
water, | began operations. Noticing the
water boil near a big rock l threw my fly
over it. There was a heavy plunge
which made me think the bank had fallen
in and then | realized that l was fast to
a heavy fish, which started up stream like
a locomotive. For 450 yards | ran along
side without paying out much line. At
this point | met a mounted cowboy. A
few seconds explained the situation and
| was in the saddle urging the pony to
his topmost speed. | could now keep up
with comparative ease, bu: it vas difficult
to keep the line tau while the pony was
jumping gulches aud rocks. After about
two miles of this. the nature OF the ground
made ~ i'm nnaathln 70 anntannn SaaInn
that a crisis was at hand | drew my re-
volver with which several years practice
at the bar had made me proficient, and as
the fish rolled heavily over |
fired a bullet through the
base of the right fin, disabling it. AS |
foresaw this disarranged his steering gear
and in the rush which followed he beached
himself high and dry on a sand bar. l
have not got his exact weight, as there
are no scales with capacity enough to
weigh him, but the river fell two and a
half inches when he left it. | will send
you the cowboys affidavit that | borrowed
his horse and my own as to the rest OF it.
y
Here the pen fell from his fingers and
he dropped into a dreamy sleep in which
politics in grotesque form iostled events
of every day life. Time passed and a
miniature whirlwind came circling by,
picking up the letter and twisting it away
among the willow brakes. The sun was
sinking behind the ranges when a weird
and awful cry as OF some wild beast in
mortal agony pierced the air and shrek
after shrek echoed up the valley.
Good senator, hear US and incline our
hearts to keep thy law calculated Jo-
seph, mixing up his dreams and all he
could remember from the prayer book,
as he grasped his trusty "22" and gazed
fiercely out into the gathering gloom, but
beyond a mufled groan nothing more
could be heard.
Next day at dawn search was made and
in the middle of a grassy glade, its glossy
limbs stiff IN death, lay a splendid noun
tain lion. The protruding eyes and barred
fangs showed that its end must have been
.agonizing, but no cause was apparent ex-
cept that under one paw was found the
open sheets of Joe Pratt's uncompleted
letter.