1 68 FISHING IN RIVER, STREAM, AND LOCH 



will have more leisure to appreciate the beauties of 

 nature when the fishes shall leave off feeding towards 

 high noon. In the meantime, his hopes rise high 

 as he catches sight of the river. Both in fulness 

 and colour it seems in prime condition. His hands 

 tremble with pleasurable excitement as he puts his rod 

 together not a very long one, and somewhat stiff. 

 The tapering horsehair is a masterpiece of delicate 

 twisting ; the tough casting-line, of a tinge the colour 

 of the water, is a miracle of fineness ; the flies, tem- 

 pered of well-proved material, are something in size 

 between midges and mosquitoes. Having taken a 

 general survey of the scene of operations, he goes 

 stealthily to his work, as if he were stalking deer. 

 Standing well back from the bank, so that no line of 

 his shadow may fall on the water, he makes his quick 

 casts up the stream, letting the flies drop down like 

 thistle-down. He never cares to dwell on the cast or 

 play his flies ; for he knows well that if the trout do 

 not come at the first offer it is seldom worth while to 

 press it. Very frequently it is a most difficult and 

 delicate bit of work to touch the surface at the likely- 

 looking spot where experience tells him his friends 

 should be at home. Sometimes, to make assurance of 

 lightness doubly sure, he pitches the fly against some 

 hanging stump, letting it drop naturally back in a 

 gentle ricochet, just as its living prototype might be 

 supposed to do. And even if the trout be in a taking 

 humour, and if weather and water be all that can be 

 desired, he may have to labour on long enough without 



