"I think you will find a very small gray hackle will be good. Sometimes they take the Professor. Just the other day a man came down here with a little Silver Doctor fly, and they couldn't keep away from it. Sometimes they take Queen of the Waters--dressed long, like a grasshopper--in the bright time of the day. If they take little flies in the evening, then you use little flies, too. There are certainly plenty of the grayling there." On any stream but this the number of rods now present would have spoiled the sport for some one, but so extensive was the good fishing water that there was room enough for all six of those who intended to fish--Billy said he would go along and carry the basket for Jesse, and Con O'Brien laughed at the idea of fishing, as he had already had so much that summer; so he went with Uncle Dick. They broke into three parties, one each of the men going along with one of the young anglers, although Chet and his friend were so used to the stream that they needed no advice. These two for a time did not fish at all, but showed the newcomers how and where the sport would be found. The prediction of the rancher was more than verified. The day had been warm, and now, as the cool of the evening came, the grayling began to rise. At the heads of the bluffs where the current swept in they could be seen breaking almost continually, taking in some small floating insects. Inside of a few minutes each of the anglers was fast to a fine fish; and after that one strike after another followed fast and furious. "You will have to be careful, son," said Billy Williams to Jesse, who had raised three fine grayling and lost them all. "The mouth of a grayling is very tender. You can't fight him as hard as you can a trout. Let him run. When he gets that big black fin up crossways of the stream he pulls like a ton. After a while he will begin to go deep; then you want to lift him gently all the time, until in a few minutes you can get the net under him. I would rather fish grayling than trout, although some think trout fishing is more fun. "Now look at that fellow jumping over there under the bushes. He's rising right in the same place. You walk around there at that little sand bar, and float your fly right over him and see what happens." Jesse did as instructed, Billy following a little distance behind him. Whipping his fly backward and forward a few times to dry it well, Jesse, who was really a good fisherman for his years, managed to land the fly just short of the bushes, so that it floated down directly over the rising fish. There came a sudden splash and an excited shout from Jesse. "I've got him!" exclaimed he. "Maybe so," said Billy. "You had them other three, too, but you didn't get them in the basket. Now you go easy, young man, and put this one where I can get my hands on him."