Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1891-01-25
GET YOUR TROUT TO BANK, JOHNNY BULL.

were all we'll dressed. Brown braiding on
a tailor-made jacket does not, however, con-
sort with hay wagons Then we struck
into the woods along what California called
a Gamma reale-a good road-and Portland
a "fair track" 1t wound In and out
among fire blackened stumps under pine
trees, along the corners of log fences,
through hollows, which must be hopeless
marsh in the winter, and up absurd gra-
dients.
The American Country Roads.
But nowhere throughout its length did L
see any evidence of road making. There
was track-you couldn't well get off 1t,
and it was all you could do to stay on it.
The dust lay foot thick in the blind ruts,
and under the dust we found bits Of plank
ing and bundles of br9shwood that sent the
wagon bounding into the air. The journey
crashed through bracken; anon, where the
blackberries grew rankest, we found a
lonely little cemetery. the wooden rails all
awry and the pitlful stumpy headstones
nodding drunkenly at the soft green null
leins. Then, with oaths and the sound Of
rent underwood, yoke of mighty bulls
would swing down "skid" road hauling
4O-foot log along rudely made slide.
A valley full of wheat and cherry trees
succeeded, and, halting at house, we
bought ten pound weight of luscious black
cherries for something less than a rupee and
got drink of icy cold water for nothing,
while the untended team browsed sagacious-
ly by the roadside. Once we found a way
side camp of horse dealers lounging by a
pool, ready for a sale or a swap, and once
two sun-tanned youngsters shot down hill
on Indian ponies their full creels banging
from the high pummeled saddles. They
had been fishing, and were our brethren
therefore. We shouted aloud in chorus to
scare a wildcat; we squabbled over the
reasons that had led a snake to cross road;
we heaved bits of bark at a venturesome
chipmunk, who was really the little gray
squirrel OF India, and had come to call on
me; we lost our way and got the wagon SO
beautifully fixed on a khud-bound road that
we had to tie the two hind wheels to get it
down.
RECALLED on Mining Lies.
Above all, California told tales of Nevada
and Arizona, of lonely nights spent out
prospecting. the slaughter of deer and the
chase of men, of woman, lovely woman, who
is frebrand in Western city and leads to
the popping of pistols, and of the sudden
changes and chances of fortune, who de-
lights in making the miner or the lumber
man quadruplicate millionaire, and in
"busting" the railroad king That was a
day to be remembered, and it had only be-
gun when we drew rein at a tiny farm house
on the banks of the Clackamas, and sought
horse iced and lodging ere we hastened to
the river that brake over q weir not a quar-
ter of mile away.
Imagine.a stream 20 yards broad divided
by pebbly island, running over seductive
rifles" and swiriing into deep, quiet pools,
where the good salmon goes to smoke his
pipe after meals. Get such a stream amid
fields OF breast high crops surrounded by
hills of pines, throw in where you please
quiet water. long fenced meadows and
100-foot bluff just to keep the scenery from
growing too monotonous, and you will get
some faint notion of the Clackamas. The
weir had been erected to pen the Chenook
salmon from going further up stream. We
could see them, 20 or 80 pounds, BY the
score in the deep pools, or flying madly
against the wire and foolishly skinning
their noses. They were not our prey, for
they would not rise at fly and we knew it.
ALI the same when one made his leap against
the wire and landed on the foot plank with
on, would fain have claimed him for my
own capture.
First Catch of the Day.
and the whisky. California shifted up
stream and down stream, across the racing
water, chose his ground and let the gaudy
fly drop in the tail of rifle. I was getting
my rod together when heard the joyous
shrek of the reel and the yells of California,
and three feet of living silver leaped into
the air far across the water. The forces
were engaged. The salmon tore up stream,
the tense line cutting the water like tide
rip behind him, and the light bamboo bowed
to breaking. What happened thereafter /
cannot tell. California swore and prayed
and Portland shouted advice, and did all
three for what appeared to be half day,
but was in reality little over quarter Of
an hour, and sullenly our fish came home
with spurts of temper, dashes head on and
sarabands In the air. but home to the bank
came he, and the remorseless reel gathered
up the thread of his life inch BY inch.
We landed him in little bay, and the
spring-weight in his gorgeous gills checked
at III a pounds. Eleven and one-half pounds
of fighting salmonl We danced a war
dance on the pebbles, and California caught
me round the waist in hug that went near
to breaking my ribs while he shouted:
Partner! partnerl This is gloryl Now you
catch your fishl Twenty-four years I've
waited for thisp'
went into that icy cold river and made