I turn and shake Tharrett's hand with a profound thank-you. "Uncle," I tell him, cranking in my line. "I've caught plenty of fish today. I'll quit while I'm ahead." We drift out of the canyon shadows at Little Hole where the gorge, and our day, ends, although the broadening valley below beckons with another 9 miles of fishable water. At the put-out, there are several anglers wading waist-deep and casting toward midstream. I am tempted to point out that the fish are behind them along the bank, but I let it go. I'll be wading tomorrow, stalking the river's edge like a heron and catching those fish myself.