THE MICROBE 



that day, and hearing of my contemplated exploit 

 kindly offered to put me up for the night as being 

 nearer the scene of action. In the meantime, to my 

 infinite joy and the disgust no doubt of Llanfairfechan 

 generally, a heavy rain fell and the local brook, hitherto 

 a bed of large boulders, with an almost imperceptible 

 trickle between them, came down in spate. I judged 

 my time as it proved to a nicety, and a day or two 

 afterwards took an early train to Bangor and found 

 my way, I forget how, to the stretch below the railway 

 viaduct. The river was still a thought high but drop- 

 ping down into a nice colour. This was much the 

 biggest job I had yet undertaken, even without the 

 unimaginable adventure which it brought about. 

 Indeed, I had a rather disconcerting sensation of not 

 being equal to it. The river was much too wide to 

 cover from the bank, and at that moment too deep and 

 rapid to wade ; I felt my little Exmoor rod to be 

 distinctly inadequate. But I could throw a pretty 

 good line for my age, and succeeded in capturing a few 

 rather modest trout. Then came a moment of great 

 excitement, and I got into a sea trout whose sides 

 glittered gloriously as he leapt again and again out of 

 the water. It was only a small one, about three- 

 quarters of a pound, but a big fish to me when I got 

 him successfully out on to a gravelly beach. It was 

 not very long after this quite exhilarating event when 

 my tail fly, a Devon red palmer with gilt twist, as it 

 was sweeping round from somewhere near midstream, 

 was seized, and I experienced something of a shock. 

 The rod point went down, my line, of which I had 

 only thirty yards, began to whiz from the reel, and I 



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