It Was Seized The
Instant It Had Touched The Water, And Down, Down Went The Trout, Its
White Sides Glistening Through The Clear Water.
For some reason still
unaccountable I let it go, and yard after yard of line was reeled out.
Perhaps, after all, it was fascination that kept me from stopping the
plunge of the fish, that never stopped until the entire line was let
out.
That brought me to my senses, and I reeled the fish up and got a
fine trout, but I also got at the same time an uncontrollable longing
for land. To be in a leaky, shaky old boat over a watery, bottomless
pit, as the one that trout had been down in, was more than I could
calmly endure, so with undisguised disgust Faye rowed me back to the
landing, where I caught quite as many fish as anyone out in the boats.
One of the enlisted men prepared dinner for us, and fried the trout in
olive oil, the most perfect way of cooking mountain trout in camp.
They were delicious - so fresh from the icy water that none of their
delicate flavor had been lost, and were crisp and hot. We had cups of
steaming coffee and all sorts of nice things from the boxes we had
brought from the post. A flat boulder made a grand table for us, and
of course each one had his little camp stool to sit upon. Altogether
the dinner was a success, the best part of it being, perhaps, the
exhilarating mountain air that gave us such fine appetites, and a keen
appreciation of everything ludicrous.
While we were fishing, our tents had been arranged for us in real
soldier fashion. Great bunches of long grass had been piled up on each
side underneath the little mattresses, which raised the beds from the
ground and made them soft and springy. Those "A" tents are very small
and low, and it is impossible to stand up in one except in the center
under the ridgepole, for the canvas is stretched from the ridgepole to
the ground, so the only walls are back and front, where there is an
opening. I had never been in one before and was rather appalled at its
limitations, and neither had I ever slept on the ground before, but I
had gone prepared for a rough outing. Besides, I knew that everything
possible had been done to make Mrs. Stokes and me comfortable. The air
was chilly up on the mountain, but we had any number of heavy blankets
that kept us warm.
The night was glorious with brilliant moonlight, and the shadows of
the pine trees on the white canvas were black and wonderfully clear
cut, as the wind swayed the branches back and forth. The sounds of the
wind were dismal, soughing and moaning as all mountain winds do, and
made me think of the Bogy-man and other things. I found myself
wondering if anything could crawl under the tent at my side. I
wondered if snakes could have been brought in with the grass. I
imagined that I heard things moving about, but all the time I was
watching those exquisite shadows of the pine needles in a dreamy sort
of way.
Then all at once I saw the shadow of one, then three, things as they
ran up the canvas and darted this way and that like crazy things, and
which could not possibly have grown on a pine tree. And almost at the
same instant, something pulled my hair! With a scream and scramble I
was soon out of that tent, but of course when I moved all those things
had moved, too, and wholly disappeared. So I was called foolish to be
afraid in a tent after the weeks and months I had lived in camp. But
just then Mrs. Stokes ran from her tent, Major Stokes slowly
following, and then it came out that there had been trouble over there
also, and that I was not the only one in disgrace. Mrs. Stokes had
seen queer shadows on her canvas, and coming to me, said, "Will says
those things are squirrels!" That was too much, and I replied with
indignation, "They are not squirrels at all; they are too small and
their tails are not bushy."
Well, there was a time! We refused absolutely, positively, to go back
to our tents until we knew all about those darting shadows. We saw
that those two disagreeable men had an understanding with each other
and were much inclined to laugh. It was cold and our wrappers not very
warm, but Mrs. Stokes and I finally sat down upon some camp stools to
await events. Then Faye, who can never resist an opportunity to tease,
said to me, "You had better take care, mice might run up that stool!"
So the cat was out! I have never been afraid of mice, and have always
considered it very silly in women to make such a fuss over them. But
those field mice were different; they seemed inclined to take the very
hair from your head. Of course we could not sit up all night, and
after a time had to return to our tents. I wrapped my head up
securely, so my hair could not be carried off without my knowing
something about it. Ever so many times during the night I heard
talking and smothered laughter, and concluded that the soldiers also
were having small visitors with four swift little legs.
We had more delicious trout for our breakfast; that time fried with
tiny strips of breakfast bacon. The men had been out on the lake very
early, and had caught several dozen beautiful fish. The dinner the
evening before had been much like an ordinary picnic, but the early
breakfast up on the side of a mountain, with big boulders all around,
was something to remember. One can never imagine the deliciousness of
the air at sunrise up on the Rocky Mountains, It has to be breathed to
be appreciated.
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