twenty the first day; there was trout for breakfast, dinner, and supper, and he hung on two weeks and never paid a cent. He was either a great fisherman, or running in big luck. This is good ground right here," added the boatman, "and I reckon you have one."

Something had happened, and in came the long line and out of the depths rose a trout of the kind that has made the region famous to anglers, and disciples of Lucullus, a twentypounder, a fish that has the combined flavor of a brook trout and a salmon, and the delicate color of the latter. How large these giants grow it is difficult to say, but there is a legend of a forty-pounder, which one can well accept when contemplating the real thirty-one-pounder shown in the photograph; a veritable nightmare of a trout that few people would believe existed unless they had taken it, and then there would be a suspicion or a doubt the next day.

This is the trout of Henshaw (Salmo henshawi), a near cousin to the salmon, which explains the delicate salmon flavor so appreciated by epicures. This big trout, which appears to find its ponderous growth in the great depths of the lake, is a descendant of the cut-throat, so called from the red dash just below the under jaw; a fish that now is widely distributed over the Western country.

One of the charms of the Tahoe country is

that one is not confined to lake fishing, fascinating as it may be, as in the vicinity are numerous streams which may be followed by the fly fisherman with profit, taking him up into the cañons of the High Sierras to the very top of the world, where trout streams are born in mimic glaciers and beautiful lakes. Here is the Truckee, which can be followed for miles, rushing down the steep grade as it does, bearing the rich flocculent waters of Tahoe. And what a stream is this! Little wonder the angler forgets his purpose in the wealth of verdure. As he wanders along wild roses bar the way; masses of brilliant lupins reach up the slopes and carpets of white flowers literally star the fields and reaches. Here the scarlet Castilea paints the landscape as might Corot; brilliant Eschscholtzias flaunt their florid beauties against the green of the hills. High above them is the chaparral with attractions of its own; manzanita, Ceanothus, and others, and rising above them, the trees of the upper world,—pines, spruces, and firs.

For ten or twelve miles the angler follows these verdant galleries of the river, rising gradually to the "big water" of the aborigines, a sapphire in a setting of emerald, usually with a creel of good trout that have played well. The fishing at Tahoe is essentially spectacular as the entire environment is stupendous and striking. At every glance there is something to

attract the eye, something to arouse the senses,— big mountains, as Tallac, Ralston, or Rubicon; splendid falls, as the Eagle or White Cloud, expressing all that is radiant and beautiful in the wilds; then the lakes, seemingly numberless, of every shape, contour, and size, backed against steep mountains, filled to the brim with shadows and color; yet all about lodges, hotels, homes, camps, trails, telling the story of the invasion of civilization, that has, however, not killed the charm but merely made the region, that is now a permanent government reserve, available to all the people who would breathe pure air and drink the waters of ten thousand peaks high on the top of the world, a mile above the sea.

IF

CHAPTER XXV

A DESERT FISHING POOL

F one desires freak fishing, which, doubtless, would be unsatisfactory to almost any one, and is only interesting to write about, it can be had in the Salton Sea, which has pushed the railroad of the Californian desert farther north and is now slowly receding.

The Salton Sea is no new thing. The present one, which came in 1905, and is now, in 1909, still a good sized sea, is the second one I recall in twenty years, being the result of the diversion of the Colorado from its true course to the gulf. With it went the black bass, the salmon (not real salmon), and the pestiferous German carp. The latter have learned, so it is said, to recognize the roar and rumble of the daily Overland and throng the water near it to feed upon the débris tossed over by travellers; not an inviting lure, rather suggesting scavengers, and I always associate the carp with the big impossible sucker of Klamath.

But there are good bass in Salton Sea, and before the big water totally fails and dries up

there will, doubtless, be good fishing along its tropical shores.

Of all the desert phenomena the so-called Salton Sea is the most remarkable. This vast basin is near the last end of the desert before one reaches the divide near San Jacinto Mountain and plunges down into Southern California. It is a depression two hundred and eighty feet, more or less, below sea level, and for many square miles about it there is a general dip in that direction. If water breaks out of the Colorado and obtains a good headway, it runs, not south to the gulf, but northwest toward Salton. Salton is a vast salt bog, remarkable for its salt. A large building was erected there and salt made for a number of years in the lowest portion of the pit, nearly three hundred feet below the level of the Gulf of California. This is a most interesting country and the man who keeps his eyes open observes strange things. He sees an old beach, masses of shells; and along the foot of the range, a long decided streak, suggesting an ancient water-line. He finds curious rock inclosures reaching out into the desert from the mountains that look as though they were made to hold fish. He discovers various remains of marine animals, and it dawns upon him that sometime the Salton Basin, so far below sea level, has been a sea bed filled with water and possibly a part of the Gulf of California, or