Some day in the near future a railroad will be built “up Elk,” and then, while commerce and civilization will get a lift, the loveliest of rivers will be scarred; her trout-streams, carp-runs, bass-pools, salmon-swirls, deer-licks, bear-dens, partridge-nestles, and pheasant-covers will be overrun by sports-men, her magnificent mountains will be scratched bald-headed by lumbermen, her laughing tributaries will be saddened with saw-dust, and her queer, quaint, original boat-pullers and “seng-diggers” will wear shoes in summer-time and coats in winter, weather-board their log cabins, put glass in the windows and partitions across the one room inside.  Woods-meetings will creep into churches, square sousing in the river will degenerate to the gentle baptismal sprinkle; no picnics or barbecues will delight the inhabitants with flying horses and fights, open fireplaces and sparking-benches will give way to stoves and chairs, riding double on horseback, with fair arms not afraid to hold tight against all dangers real or fancied, will be a joy of the past, “bean-stringin’s,” “apple-parin’s,” “punkin-clippin’s,” “sass-bilin’s,” “sugar-camps,” “cabin-raisin’s,” “log-rollin’s,” “bluin’s,” “tar-and-feathering,” and “hangin’s,” will be out-civilized, and the whole country will be spoiled.

“It looks like a good biting morning for bass,” said Colonel Bangem, while he was distributing the party properly among the boats.  “But, in spite of all signs, bass bite when they please.  It is a sunny morning:  so use bright spoon-trolls, medium size.  If the fish rise freely, twenty-five feet of line is enough to have out on the stern lines; and, as the ladies will use the poles, ten feet of line is enough for them.  Don’t forget, Mrs. Bangem, to keep your troll spinning just outside the swirl of the oar, and as near the surface of the water as possible.  You know you will talk and forget all about it.  Now we will start.  If we get separated and it grows cloudy, change your trolls for three-inch ‘fairy minnows;’ and if the wind ripples the water, let out from sixty to eighty feet of line.  Take the centre of the river, and you will haul in salmon; for bass will not rise to a troll in the eddies when the water is rough.  Salmon will.  Tim, take the lead with the Professor, that the other men may see your stroke and course.  In trolling, the oarsman has as much to do with the success as the fisherman.”

Off they went, three to a boat, the fishers seated in bow and stern, the ladies in front with their fishing-poles, and the oarsman in his proper place, rowing a slow, steady stroke, dipping true and silently just fifty feet from bank, or sedge, or shelf of rock, steering outside of snags and drift and where overhanging trees buried their shadows in the water.