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Side 56 av 112
The Upper Dam at Rangeley is the place, of all others in the world,
where the lunacy of angling may be seen in its incurable stage.
There is a cosy little inn, called a camp, at the foot of a big
lake. In front of the inn is a huge dam of gray stone, over which
the river plunges into a great oval pool, where the trout assemble
in the early fall to perpetuate their race. From the tenth of
September to the thirtieth, there is not an hour of the day or night
when there are no boats floating on that pool, and no anglers
trailing the fly across its waters. Before the late fishermen are
ready to come in at midnight, the early fishermen may be seen
creeping down to the shore with lanterns in order to begin before
cock-crow. The number of fish taken is not large,--perhaps five or
six for the whole company on an average day,--but the size is
sometimes enormous,--nothing under three pounds is counted,--and
they pervade thought and conversation at the Upper Dam to the
exclusion of every other subject. There is no driving, no dancing,
no golf, no tennis. There is nothing to do but fish or die.
At first, Cornelia thought she would choose the latter alternative.
But a remark of that skilful and morose old angler, McTurk, which
she overheard on the verandah after supper, changed her mind.
"Women have no sporting instinct," said he. "They only fish because
they see men doing it. They are imitative animals."
That same night she told Beekman, in the subdued tone which the
architectural construction of the house imposes upon all
confidential communications in the bedrooms, but with resolution in
every accent, that she proposed to go fishing with him on the
morrow.
"But not on that pool, right in front of the house, you understand.
There must be some other place, out on the lake, where we can fish
for three or four days, until I get the trick of this wobbly rod.
Then I'll show that old bear, McTurk, what kind of an animal woman
is."
Beekman was simply delighted. Five days of diligent practice at the
mouth of Mill Brook brought his pupil to the point where he
pronounced her safe.
"Of course," he said patronizingly, "you have 'nt learned all about
it yet. That will take years. But you can get your fly out thirty
feet, and you can keep the tip of your rod up. If you do that, the
trout will hook himself, in rapid water, eight times out of ten.
For playing him, if you follow my directions, you 'll be all right.
We will try the pool tonight, and hope for a medium-sized fish."
Cornelia said nothing, but smiled and nodded. She had her own
thoughts.
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