200 WILD LIFE OF SCOTLAND 



by the increasing difficulty of seeing what I am 

 about. The larger trout at length begin to rise 

 silently, and in a business-like fashion, and the 

 circles to break on the surface without visible 

 cause. 



A quarter of an hour later, and I only imagine 

 that rings are there ; and can no longer follow the 

 flies, as they depart on their mission. A splash, 

 a run on the line, a prolonged birl of the wheel ; a 

 pause, another run, another splash, a little stubborn 

 resistance, a few turns of the reel ; another, but 

 feebler rush, all enter into the minutes of excitement 

 intervening between the hooking and landing of a 

 fish ; with the added mystery of the dark. 



Some big trout are feeding under the trees. I have 

 a rise, and lose him; and, the sudden rebound of 

 the rod sends the line among the branches. I have 

 to sacrifice a fly; and, in the attempt to put an- 

 other on the main difficulty in night-fishing 

 lift the line above the shadow of the hills. In 

 much the same way, the fish must see the hook 

 against the sky, with what remaining light may 

 linger there, long after the fisher loses sight of 

 it on the dark water. 



Standing breast-high among the sedges, casting 

 over the dimly seen surface, and listening, half-un- 



