192 AUTUMN ANGLING 



ever, are rather the exception than the rule, and 

 in by far the greater number of salmon streams, 

 after the water has been searched by an able 

 angler, his successor's prospects are considerably 

 blighted. On my next fishing day, however, 

 I had the satisfaction of picking up the worm 

 from before the very beak of a "two o'clock in 

 the morning" bird. 



A close and sultry air made the whole genus 

 salmo quite as stubborn as on my first introduc- 

 tion to the Lyon ; and although I swept the water 

 leisurely up to the stream where I killed the 

 salmon a few days before, the only offers were 

 the splash of a playful grilse which declined to 

 continue the game, and the fix of a really good 

 river-trout which slipped off. 



On reaching the bank of my fortunate pool, 

 the sun opportunely glanced on the brass reel 

 belonging to an uncouth rod, evidently hid in 

 a hurry among the rank grass. A pair of hob- 

 nail boots peeping out from under "the busses," 

 as Mac calls the whins, quickly revealed the 

 owner of the rod, and we unkennelled the comical 

 old "Bellman," who shammed a nap to perfec- 



