Mr. Dide, His Vacation in Colorado

Not two hundred feet from us stood a magnificent doe, broadside on, and an easy shot for the veriest tyro that ever pulled trigger. Instead of bringing the rifle to bear or giving it to Mr. Miles, the Major waved his hat and shouted. The beauty ceased staring at us and bounded away gracefully toward the aspens on the right.

"What'n thunder! – Major! you do beat all, that's a fact. Did anybody ever see such a pretty shot!" exclaimed Joshua regretfully and with an expression of disgust.

"Mr. Miles, you should understand, as well as the rest of us, that it is against the law to kill does at this time; it is the close season, and I have no doubt she has a suckling fawn hid not a hundred yards away. We'll have no law-breaking; if we need venison we will take one with horns, not kill the mother and leave the babies to starve. Think of it, man; think of the cruelty of it!"

"Hannup, Woman! ga'lang, Baby," was the only response from Joshua. It came with vigor; disgust pervaded his entire system. We passed the clump of willows, when Mr. Dide, who was trotting along behind, exclaimed:

"Aw, Majah! look theah."

Turning, we saw a buck that had just made its way out of the cover, running swiftly across the road and making for the mountain side. Joshua brought down his whip upon the horses with his usual admonition to them, but given in a tone that indicated a determination to eschew venison or even the thought of it. The Major smiled with the satisfaction of a man who realizes having made an impression. Reaching the foot of a slight rise the horses were permitted to slacken their pace, and silence reigning at the time, Joshua broke out with one of his familiar hymns:

"Almost persuaded."

"I would rather you were fully persuaded, Mr. Miles," said the Major when the singer had concluded the first stanza.

"All right – here she goes."

Joshua seemed to rise to his best effort, and was unexpectedly joined by Mr. Dide in an excellent bass.

"Well!" said the Major, as the song was concluded, "our lines seem to have fallen in pleasant places, sure enough. I was not aware of the hymn, however."

"If all the hunters that come over here lived up to your way, Major, we'd have to kill the deer in self-defence."

"You believe, however, that my way is the right way, don't you?"

"Yes, I do – hannup, Woman."

Later in the afternoon we came to what is known as the "Still Water." A subsequent examination of this place in the stream impressed me as being caused by the peculiar formation of the bed-rock. An idea of it may be imparted by taking a dozen shingles and laying them on a level, as you would upon a roof, with the butts lapping a couple of inches only. Consider this the bed of a river with the water flowing over it from the thin end of the shingles, the butts being from three or four feet to ten in thickness. At each butt, or where the rock breaks abruptly, there is a scarcely perceptible motion of the water; immediately beneath is a deep hole, growing shallower as the next butt is reached; then follows another hole; there are several miles of this water in which the current is barely noticeable; the banks are four and five feet from the surface, which is as smooth as glass. The willows grow thickly on both sides of the stream, with breaks at intervals that give one access to it.

Joshua, who was familiar with the vicinity, pronounced Still Water "a dandy place to fish," but we did not stop, except to permit the Major to possess himself of two more grouse, the birds being abundant. We made camp before dark near the mouth of the cañon.

Immediately opposite is a perpendicular bluff of rocks two hundred feet high, or more; slight projections here and there in the face of it serve as footholds for a few hardy bushes, a cluster of wild flowers, or a matted vine; nearer the summit are dwarfed pines. The river sweeps along the foot of this wall; distilled from its near mountain springs, it is as clear as crystal, and, dashing from the shadows of the adjacent cañon, is, as Mr. Dide expresses it, "vewy cold." On the side of the river where our camp lies the valley extends very gradually up and back to the neighboring hills. The grass is bountiful and rich, and we have a cluster of young pines under which we may lounge in the heat of the day. Looking down the course of the river the valley becomes wider, and we have an open view of mountains and green slopes for miles. At our first night's camp in this secluded spot, when the fire has burned low and casts fitful shadows against the opposite cliff, we find ourselves with our feet due north as we lie in our blankets. There is a peculiar charm in the bed of fragrant twigs, with nothing to shut off our vision of the fretted roof. We may gaze out of our shadowy environment into the faces of the bright gems and hold hallowed communion with their mysteries. The liquid voices of the Naiads in their revels sweep gleefully toward me and then away again in softest cadence. The north star and the Dipper grow bright, then indistinct, then revive and grow dim again, as the gentle sprites brush my eyelids tenderly with their downy wings and soothe me into sweet forgetfulness. Some time in the night I awoke; the Dipper had moved, or rather we had moved, and the constellation was no longer in sight. The silence was broken only by the heavy breathing of my nearest companion, the Major, and the hymn from the river. As its notes rose and fell its somnolent influence took me gently in charge again. The "to-hoo – to-hoo" of an owl interrupted the spell for a moment; I saw him in my mind's eye solemnly staring into the darkness, and I was gone before he had concluded the second call.

When I awoke again it was daylight and I raised on my elbow to take in my fellows. Joshua lay rolled in his blankets under the cluster of pines. Mr. Dide looked thin and singular without his eyeglass. His nose had reached the peeling stage under the influence of the sun, and was decorated with ragged bits of skin, as if it had been caught in a shower of tattered tissue-paper. The Major, with his hat tied over his head, bore marks of the out-door life and slept like a child. I turned out quietly, as the sun crept over the hills, slanting its glad rays against the opposite cliff, and when they touched the swirling water at its foot, I put my rod together, with a coachman on the end of the leader, and walked a dozen paces to a little gravel bar.

I had never before tried the denizens of our mountain streams at so early an hour, and was doubtful of securing anything for breakfast. I sent the coachman over into the swirl and hooked a trout at once; landing him safely, I tried for the second and secured him. Just below me a few rods the river made an abrupt bend, and a great boulder there had accumulated a quantity of drift, under which was a promising pool. I tried the pool with flattering success, landing three fish, either of which would weigh half a pound. Another cast, a little nearer a log that constituted the main support of the rubbish, and a beautiful salmon-tinted trout rolled up to the fly and was caught. The water was swift, and he caused me some uneasiness by making directly for his lurking-place; if he ever reached the snags that had heretofore afforded him shelter, or the line should foul in the vibrating branches of some drift that swung in mid-stream between us, he was no longer mine. To keep him from his hiding-place I took the risk of refusing him line, merely dropping the point of the rod a little in his more violent struggles; to avoid the nearer brush I went into the water and succeeded in getting below that difficulty. I realized Mr. Dide's conclusion of the temperature, and felt that his adverb was altogether inadequate – a dead failure, in fact; it demanded adjectives in quantity and force. The water reached my knees, and I feared if it rose any higher I should be compelled to take to the bank; rubber boots afford some protection in such emergencies and temper the chill. I had only a light pair of old shoes devoted to camp use in dry weather. Having attained an advantageous position, I succeeded in coaxing his troutship completely away from danger into slower water, and learning that he was securely fastened, I had no apprehension of the result. I allowed him to fight until he was quite exhausted, and then drew him up to and upon the small bar at the edge of which I had been standing. I must weigh him, surely, then and there; and by the pocket scales he brings down the indicator to two pounds and two ounces, and, for "a red feller," he had offered more than ordinary resistance.

There was an abundance for breakfast, and twenty minutes had sufficed to cover the time from my leaving the camp. I gathered up my spoils, strung them on a willow twig and returned. The sleepers had not changed their attitudes, and I gave them the benefit of a morning bell after the manner of an Indian war-whoop. The Major merely opened his eyes, Mr. Dide was startled, and Joshua took in the situation calmly.

"Arise, ye sluggards, and see the result of twenty-minutes' work on the South Fork of the White!"

"I'll discount that before noon," said the major, throwing off his blankets.

While the Major and Mr. Dide made their way to the water's edge with soap and towel, Joshua appealed to me confidentially. He wanted to know why the Major had brought "that Winchester."

I suggested that he might have intended it for bear.

"But see here, now, can't you persuade him to kill a deer, or to let me have the rifle? I see that he keeps the ca'tridges fastened up in that box of his, or stowed in his pockets."

Plainly the Major and Joshua understood each other upon the question of game, but I consoled him by agreeing to comply with his wishes.

CHAPTER VIII.

SPORT

Within two miles of us was a ranch, where we knew there were several men. While discussing breakfast, I prefaced my request to the Major by intimating these facts, and hinting that a taste of venison would serve as a change from trout and grouse. The Major looked at me and then at Joshua, who was busy over the fire, but attentive.

"Those men will help us dispose of a deer, if you get one."

"Very likely, if they haven't got a supply on hand."

"Suppose you inquire."

"Well, I'll think of it," looking again in Joshua's direction.

"If you'll just leave some of them ca'tridges where I can lay hands on 'em, I'll get some venison," Joshua broke in, giving a trout in the frying-pan an extra turn and pressing the centre down with his knife.

"No doubt," and the Major's visage relaxed into a smile.

"You bet I will. I can't see the use of havin' deer runnin' all over and never a shot fired; there's a difference between supplyin' your wants and wastin'."

When the meal was concluded the Major shouldered his rifle and sauntered off toward the cabin of the settler. He returned in the course of an hour, with the announcement that the men would "not mind" taking a little meat; they had been too busy for a few days past to do any hunting. They would not object to a few trout, as well, if we had them to spare. This was good news.

"Those men have trapped and killed four bears during the past few days," said the Major.

"Where'bouts?" inquired Joshua quickly.

"Just up there in the timber a couple of miles. The bear killed a horse, and the men have been after the bear with pretty good success."

"I should say so – mebbe I'll go up and see 'em."

"Better not, without a gun."

"That's so – mebbe there's more around," murmured Joshua; "I've no notion goin' up there and roostin' in a tree." In a few moments he broke out with a song which we had not heard from him:

"The Lord will provide."

"I've heard that He 'helps those who help themselves,'" said the Major.

"Look here, major, haven't I been tryin' to help myself for a week and can't?"

There was something irresistibly ludicrous in the pathetic appeal that set us all laughing, including the promoter of the merriment.

"I will try for one in the morning, Mr. Miles, or you may go if you can get back in time to prepare breakfast."

"Oh, I'll get back in time, you bet."

As it was after nine o'clock, the Major said he would go up the cañon a little way and catch a few trout. I was to look after the advancement of Mr. Dide; I prevailed upon him to leave his umbrella in camp, and took him and his new rod under my supervision. The gentleman gave indications of improvement, and I persuaded him to the pool with the drift. After several ineffectual efforts he succeeded in throwing his fly beyond the brush in mid-stream, and hooked a trout that the next moment had the line entangled. He was without waders, and I did not propose to swim in that cold water for the sake of saving another man's leader. I took the rod, but finding gentle manipulation unavailing, I gave the line a pull and broke the snell only. Bending on another fly, I advised him to work his way through the bushes and reach the little bar where I had landed my last trout. By that means he could cast up toward the pool and would avoid at least one pile of brush. When he was fairly stationed I went back to camp, took my bamboo and worked my way down to the water at the mouth of the cañon.

A likely place presented itself a few rods above; I crossed a riffle and made my way to it on a beach of gravel about three feet wide. The pool was quite deep on the farther side and the bottom descended somewhat abruptly from the bar, so that I could not get more than eight feet from the bushes behind me without going over my boots. It was a difficult place to cast from, with even twenty feet of line, without catching the bushes, but I managed to get the fly away, after a fashion not satisfactory. It seemed the rule, however, that no matter where or how the fly landed, except on the shallow riffles, a trout was almost certain to put in an appearance. In the clear and smooth-flowing water in front of me, I saw a dozen beautiful fish; the one nearest the fly came up and took it. I soon landed him on the beach and tried again. We had made some stir, but it had no appreciable effect on the others, and I had another fastened in a few moments. This sort of angling has its disadvantages to the lover of the gentle art; it is too apt to curtail the measure of his enjoyment; he absorbs in half an hour a fund that, to be correctly appreciated, should consume double the time.

Instead of casting again at once, I stood watching the well-to-do citizens. One and another would rise to the surface, take in something I could not discern and settle back again; their existence seemed to be one of ease, as of mortals who had inherited or secured a competency, and were disposed to indolence. They moved with a dignity characteristic of high breeding. If one started in quest of a floating morsel his nearest neighbor courteously bowed him on, as it were, and with a graceful wave of his caudal said plainly: "Oblige me by taking precedence." Seeing one larger than his mates behind a small rock, I sent the coachman in his vicinity. Two started, but the smaller one halted – it was age and beauty before beauty alone. Age with its wisdom declined and settled back, beauty and inexperience came forward again and was lost to his crystal world.

Was this experience of the one who refused greater than could be encompassed by human subtlety? I was a little piqued, perhaps, at the indifference manifested. He might be a hotel clerk, a justice of the peace or some other dignitary metamorphosed.

I lighted my pipe, sat under the shade of the mountain beeches, smoked and reflected. An ousel came suddenly round the elbow of the river and alighted in the edge of the water a few yards away. He bobbed up and down a few times, said something to himself and took a running dive for a few feet along the margin of the bar, came out again, bobbed and spoke, as though he might be rehearsing for some water-wagtail entertainment, then took another dive. Presently a second one came round the same course, pleased himself and me with an exhibition precisely like that of his predecessor and finally disappeared.

I changed the coachman for a gray hackle with a peacock body and stepped into the edge of the pool. "The deformed transformed" had resumed his station behind his desk, and I put the temptation in his way. He could not resist it; he had his price and I had ascertained its maximum; a very trifle indeed, the veriest fraud as usual, compounded of tinsel and feathers, appealing first to the eye, then to the palate, arousing his dormant wicked propensities, tickling not the least of these – his avarice. I felt, I must confess, a symptom of contempt for him, as the sting of death touched his lips. I watched him struggle, feeling something approaching vicious exultation. I could not, however, but admire his efforts to rid himself of the consequences of his folly. Repentance, if he experienced it, came too late; the inexorable hand of the fate he had courted was closing upon him. He must have said to himself, at intervals, while he lay gasping: "If I were only safe out of this – I would never put on airs again – to excite the pride of the most humble of creatures." Resignation, however, was not one of his attributes; so long as hope of escape held a place in the remotest corner of his soul, he debated between genuine repentance and its shadow. He would yet make endeavors to release himself; if successful his old ways would be avoided, and humility might find a place in his mind, perhaps. I was not thoroughly convinced that he had been sufficiently overcome to warrant this favorable conclusion; I was still anxious to put my hand on him: he might forget his lesson. Being myself unsettled, I experienced no trouble in attributing all the hallucination to the individual at the other end of the line. One last, glorious endeavor, and he was free. I lifted my hat in token of his prowess, though I had not entirely pardoned his original conceit. When I saw him again he had safely ensconced himself between two rocks with his nose courting the opposite bank. He seemed very passive, with his tail at right angles with the gentle current. I watched him some time, but he did not move; he was prostrated, if ever fish was, in abject humiliation, crushed, absolutely, to earth.

I resolved to say nothing of my adventure. The Major would receive my story with an aggravating smile, a smile that quietly throws out temptation to anger and violence. Or Joshua might break out with that song of his:

"Tell me the old, old story."

But I will intrust it to you, in confidence, you understand. I am a very good judge and he weighed four pounds, if he weighed an ounce.

I recrossed the riffle and sought Mr. Dide. I found him within a few feet of where I had deposited him. He had procured his umbrella during my absence, and, with the patience commendable in the bait fisherman, was waiting for a rise in six inches of water. I watched him for a while and wondered if he would make even a fisherman; he possessed some of the gifts of the angler.

"I see you have that umbrella again, Mr. Dide."

"Aw, yes – it is so vewy waam, you know, in the sun."

"Have you caught anything?"

"Not yet, but I anticipate a vewy big one, by-and-by."

I went up to the pool with the drift, and casting my hackle close under the old log, was fast in a moment to the mate of the one I had secured before breakfast. Pursuing my former tactics I was soon by the side of our friend, who watched me with interest and encouraged me with his doubts of my ability to land the captive. When I finally brought him out, released him from the hook and rapped him on the head with a stone, Mr. Dide declared he never could accomplish such a feat.

"Why, my deah boy, he would smash my pole, you know."

His modesty gave me some hope that ultimately he would arrive at proficiency, barring the umbrella.

At noon the Major put in his appearance with twelve trout and two white-fish; the string weighed sixteen pounds.

"That is a splendid average," said the Major, spreading the fish out upon the grass, to be the more conveniently admired as individuals.

These white-fish were the first we had taken, although they are quite plentiful in the stream, and are sometimes an annoyance to those who are seeking trout only. Why they should be a source of vexation to any one is a mystery. The fish is beautiful in contour, more slender than the trout, has a delicate mouth, rises eagerly to the fly, and its meat is delicious. Break a Brazil nut in two, and the firm white kernel will remind you of the meat of the white-fish when it has been properly cooked. They are good fighters withal, though they do not break the water when hooked as readily as the trout. To my mind the complaints have in them somewhat of affectation, unless one is indulging solely in the science of angling.

The following morning the camp was not astir until the sun came up over the hills and, shining in our faces, dried the moisture on our beards. The Major was the first to awake, and looking in Joshua's direction, discovered that individual in the enjoyment of his morning nap. He called to him:

"I thought you were going for a deer, Mr. Miles. You should have been up before daylight."

Joshua declared that such had been his intention, but on reflection he thought, that as he would have to wade the stream, he would not go.

"But there must be good hunting on this side, Mr. Miles."

"Yes, I shouldn't wonder, but it looks better over on that side; mebbe I'll go when the grass dries off."

"If you had only mentioned your preference I would have gone out and driven a deer into camp."

"Now, look here, Major, can't you give us a rest? I was sleepy this morning, that's a fact."

Before day the next morning, the Major slipped out of his blankets, and with his Winchester started off in the direction of the aspens on the hills below and back from the camp. The sun had fairly streaked the east with gold color, and I lay watching the coming light, dozing a few moments and then awakening to see the surroundings put on more definite shapes, when I heard the report of a rifle. Before the echo ceased its complainings I was asleep again, dreaming that the major had encountered a silver-tip, and, failing in his first shot, had been compelled to take to a tree. I saw the brute tearing away at the bark and my friend embracing the trunk a dozen feet from the ground. The comical side of the picture was appealing to me when the vision suddenly vanished. I had been aroused by my own laughter, and I saw the Major looking down at me with a broad smile on his face.

"You must have been indulging in a pleasant dream, my boy. Come, it is time you were out of bed. Mr. Miles, will you please put the saddle and bridle of Mr. Dide's on one of your mares and go with me? I have killed that deer."

The Major was wet to the waist. Joshua looked at him dolefully and crawled out, inquiring for the locality of the game. When the Major told him it was not half a mile away and he had seen fresh bear tracks, he accelerated his pace and longed for another rifle.

We had noticed every morning fresh deer signs along the margin of the river, and the Major had stationed himself in some willows but a little way from the camp. Just after daybreak the buck, which he brought in was on his way for a morning tipple when the Major called him to a halt. The animal turned in his tracks on feeling the bullet, and the Major had followed for nearly half a mile, when he found him dead.

Joshua reported elk signs upon his return, and was enjoying a new fever from that cause; but he never found any cartridges in the magazine when the weapon was left in camp.

We had passed two weeks in our delightful retreat, seeing no one except the inhabitants of the neighboring ranch, who would visit us at intervals for a supply of trout, which we always had for them. In return they brought us such quantities of rich milk that we became surfeited. The weather had been superb, without a drop of rain, and we had no use even for the fly to shelter us at night. The Major wished for a shower to break the monotony, but we did not get it.

We had wondered more than once during our idle moments concerning the deacon and his whereabouts. One evening when Mr. Dide and myself were alone at the camp-fire, the Major and Joshua having gone to the neighboring ranch, I made bold to inquire of the gentleman touching the ladies in whose company we had left our friend. Mr. Dide answered: