26 THE AMERICAN TROUT. 
the number of herring darting past gave continual 
promise of the presence of their arch enemy, the trout. 
I had half-filled my basket, and had met with wonder- 
ful escapes and terrible heart-rending losses, mingled 
with exhilarating successes. I had made about half the 
distance, as well as we judged, and felt proud and happy 
as no king upon his throne ever did or will. My rod, 
though a fly-rod, was whipped every few inches with silk, 
and thus strengthened had stood the unequal conflict 
admirably. Still hoping for better things — who will not 
hope for the impossible ? — I strode on. Below me the 
current made a sudden turn at a bend in the stream, and 
eddied swiftly under the overhanging bank. The brook 
almost disappeared in what was evidently a vast cavern 
deep in the bowels of that bank. In such watery palaces, 
amid the worn rocks, the tangled roots, the undulating 
moss and weeds, fierce -eyed, monstrous trout delight to 
dwell. In such fortresses they await unwary travellers, 
and dark deeds are done in the coT|genial darkness — 
outrage, riots and murder stalk boldly about. The 
migratory herring, harmless and unsuspicious, peers 
in and starts affrighted back, then peers again, at last 
ventures forward, and then, compelled by instinct to 
ascend, tries to dart hastily by ; there is a sudden rush, 
a frantic struggle, a piteous look entreating mercy of 
pitiless hearts ; for an instant the water is dyed with 
blood and then flows on, washing all trace of the deed 
away. 
I approach the den carefully, the feather-like float 
dancing merrily far ahead over the rippling tide, and as 
the line is paid out, swaying from side to side, close in 
