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He had seen the trout. The man who was fishing with paste had stood so still and patient that the trout, re-assured, had come out, and the navvy trust a navvy to see anything of the kind caught sight of him. The navvy knew how to see through water. He told the fisherman, and there was a stir of excitement, a changing of hooks and bait.
The creek leaped over rocks, slid thin blades of swift current between the higher bowlders, and crept stealthily down into shady pools, where speckled trout lay motionless except for the gently-moving tail and fins that held them stationary in some deeper shadow. Not a gloomy place, surely, when the peace of a sunny morning laid its spell upon the land.
The lake offers excellent fishing. Trout, salmon, pickerel and perch abound in great numbers. Bolton road, known as "Millionaires' Row," begins at the village of Lake George and continues along the west shore as far as Bolton landing. Beautiful views of the surrounding country may be had along this route.
Are we not engaged to a serious resentment of this use that is made of us? Are we tickled trout, and fools of nature? One looks at the face of heaven and earth lays all petulance at rest, and soothes us to wiser convictions. To the intelligent, nature converts itself into a vast promise, and will not be rashly explained. Her secret is untold.
After warming ourselves by a big fire and eating luncheon, Hubbard and I took our rods and fished the greater part of the afternoon, catching between us twelve or fifteen trout. "You had better cook them all for supper, George," said Hubbard. "This is my mother's birthday, and in honour of it we'll have an extra loaf of bread and some of her dried apples.
The stream was about thirty feet in width and from a foot to four foot deep, with great rocks sticking up here and there. Trout and some other fish were plentiful, and all had but little difficulty in getting bites, and it was great sport to play their catches and land them. "This is the best fishing I ever saw!" cried Phil, as he succeeded in landing an extra fine mountain trout.
Before it has sunk six inches, if there is not one of those black-backed, orange-bellied, Taylor Brook trout fighting with it, something is wrong with your worm or with you. For the trout are always there, sheltered by the brushwood that makes this half mile of fishing "not worth while." Below the lower road the Taylor Brook becomes uncertain water.
In addition, one can get perch, porpoise, eels, leatherjackets, summer flounder, turbot, mullet, trout, blackfish, herring, sole, garfish, etc. In short, fish is so abundant in Norfolk that sometimes the police find it necessary to throw back into the water those that are not bought.
To his horror, it was immediately transmuted from an admirably fried brook trout into a gold-fish, though not one of those gold-fishes which people often keep in glass globes, as ornaments for the parlour. No; but it was really a metallic fish, and looked as if it had been very cunningly made by the nicest goldsmith in the world.
I have a strong suspicion that that guide took away Kintla's only fish, and left it without hope of posterity. We rested at Kintla, for a strenuous time was before us, rested and fasted. For supplies were now very low. Starvation Ridge loomed over us, and starvation stared us in the face. We had counted on trout, and there were no trout.
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