ciation of the flow and force of the currents; but nothing seems so difficult as the exact balance they preserve during these great muscular exertions. They constantly change their setting poles from side to side and half face about with every change; but in doing so they preserve a perfect poise, not casting an ounce of improper weight upon either side while making these rapid changes. A novice, whatever props he might call to his aid, would find it impossible to maintain his equilibrium while passing either up or down these boiling cauldrons. But to lose his balance is the last thing to be apprehended from an expert canoeHe has this art perfectly-acquired by long man. years of constant practice. Indian Falls is by far the most threatening rapid on the river, and is the only one where anglers are expected to disembark in ascending. The canoes, however, are always polled up and it is very seldom that any accident happens. The descent is even more difficult, and prudent voyageurs take to terra firma rather than run the gauntlet of the numerous bowlders which dot the channel from summit to base. Only one of our party, however, had the good sense to "take to the woods" for half a mile rather than run the risk of a cold bath or something worse, by rushing down the fearfully turbulent waterway. It so happened that no harm befell his companions; but in making the detour he failed to share in the most exciting incident of the excursion. I have often passed the famous rapids of the St. Lawrence. That is an incident to be remembered and talked about for a life-time. But that passage is monotonous compared with shooting the rapids of Indian Falls in a bark canoe. The river between the Falls and the Forks nine miles is comparatively still water, the current not averaging more than five or six miles an hour. The sail is delightful, and we enjoyed it to the full, reaching our destination just at nightfall. But it was midnight before any one was disposed to withdraw himself from the camp-fire, whose ruddy glow gave piquancy and breadth to the ceaseless flow of wit and wisdom which found ready utterance during these always pleasant evening hours on the banks of the "fair Cascapedia," the melody of whose singing waters never failed to quickly woo us to refreshing slumbers. CHAPTER XXIII. GRAND SPORT AT THE FORKS-LEAPING SALMON And yf it fortune you to fmyt a gret fyfh with a small harnays thenne ye muft lede hym in the water and labour hym there tyll he be drounyd and overcome. Thenne take hym as well as ye can or maye, and euer be waar that ye holde not ouer the frengthe of your lyne, and as moche as ye may, lete hym not come out of your lyne's ende ftreyghte from you: but kepe hym euer vnder the rodde and euermore hold hym ftreyghte: foo that your lyne may be fufteyne, and beere his lepys and his plungys wyth the helpe of your cropp, and of your honde.-[Treatyfe of Fyffhynge wyth an Angle, 1496. The clouds are silver in an azure sky; The hills lie basking in a sunny dream; The lapping water coolly gurgles by Where lies the fallen trunk athwart the stream. E first visited these upper waters of the Cascapedia last season. Our camp is fifty miles from the sea, and is "beautiful for situation." The spot chosen is a sort of peninsula, furnishing a fine view of the river and of the highest of the surrounding mountains. Our tents are pitched in the midst of a grove of young pines, whose shade is ample at all hours. The summer breeze has an unobstructed sweep from three directions, and nothing is lacking in tent or larder to render our temporary resting place an angler's elysium. The early hours of our first day were full of forest music. An occasional bird whistled out his morning orisons. The murmur of the running water was pleasant to the ear, and the splash of the leaping salmon could be heard distinctly above the monotonous sough of the pines as they were waved to and fro by the balmy breath of the cloudless morning. What we knew of these pools rendered us impatient to test them, and much earlier than usual we were busy adjusting our rods and reels for the fray. To the curiosity which always accompanies the opportunity to cast in new waters was superadded the excitement caused by the salmon quadrille in full play within short pis tol range of the camp. Every leap seemed a challenge, and gave promise of grander sport than we had yet experienced. There was a good pool for each of us, and each proceeded in his own way to make the best use of his rare opportunity. The General had the first rise. All the signs indicated that he was fast to a fish of unusual weight. The initiatory rush and leap were prodigious, taking out nearly every foot of line and compelling a rapid forward movement of the canoe to prevent mischief. In a few moments the General was able to step out upon the pebbly beach, where he fancied he could the more successfully curb and capture his prey. For a while it looked as if he was about to demonstrate the soundness of his theory that a salmon fisher should always take to the beach where practicable, as soon as possible after he has hooked his fish. The tussle was severe and protracted. The fish was a stubborn brute, always doing just the very thing it was hoped he would not do-rushing and leaping and sulking in such eccentric and perverse ways as to keep his captor moving backward and forward like a wearied sentinel at his post. If the fish continued to thus turn upon his own tracks long enough, his capture, sooner or later, would be reasonably sure. But nothing is more uncertain than the movements of a hooked salmon, and those of us who had ceased fishing to witness the battle were not surprised when this lusty rascal made a dash down stream which soon brought the General to the end of his walk, and compelled him to take to his canoe to prevent the fish from making his escape; for you might as well try to hold a two-year old colt with a cotton thread as a rushing thirtypound salmon by a direct pull on an exhausted line. It is for this reason that I always stick to my canoe during such a contest. You are better able to fol |