[Southeast] Iful from the last cottage where the vehicles are left and the two or

[Derderian]

Ods sweeping down the valley. A recent "eboulement" or land slide had
blocked the road along the river and men were still busy clearing away
the rubbish. Eight or ten miles up the river at the fall known as the
Chute, still a favourite spot for salmon fishing, they had magnificent
sport. One Jean Gros, in a crazy canoe, took them to the best places for
casting the fly. The first salmon weighed twenty-five pounds and they
had to play it for three-quarters of an hour. That evening when they
returned to M. Chaperon's, to feast once more, they had five salmon
weighing in all one hundred and five pounds and forty-five sea trout
averaging three pounds each. No wonder Gilchrist has said such fishing
was worth a trip across the Atlantic! The blot on the day's enjoyment
was that in the July weather they were pestered with flies. Excellent
sport continued from day to day. Once Jean Gros lost his hold of the
pole by which he controlled the canoe and it drifted helplessly towards
a rapid, Henry all the time playing a salmon. The man was alarmed and
knelt to mumble prayers but Henry caught up a board thrown from the
shore, gave him a whack with it on the back and shouted: "_Ramez! Sacre!
Ramez!_" The effect was electrical. The old fellow seized the board,
paddled with it like mad, steered down the rapid, and Henry finally
landed his salmon. Day after day the two fishermen drove up to the Chute
to fish until, after a fortnight, the river fell and the salmon ceased
to rise; then they went down in a large boat to Riviere Noire, said
never yet to have been fished with a rod, slept at nigh