PIS C A TOR AND VENATOR 179 



Act I. The fish might sulk, the sky might alter, the 

 river might wax, but nothing could deprive me of 

 those two hours of excitement and pleasant expecta 

 tion ; nor would they have been any pleasanter if 

 subsequently I had attained the greatest success. I 

 w r as on the brink of the unknown, but the past has 

 been irrevocably mine. 



Act II. — The first few throws are more to wet 

 the line and straighten the cast than for any other 

 purpose. Of course, I begin higher up the stream 

 than any fish would be likely to go ; but, in such 

 high water, they may rise very near the head of the 

 pool, and, at any rate, I will make sure that I miss no 

 chance. How well the fly looks as it plays in the 

 dancing rapids ! Surely no sensible fish can decline 

 such a temptation. Now I am getting down to a 

 stone just under an overhanging alder bush, and my 

 heart beats quicker as I recognise the scene of many 

 past successes. How often has a salmon taken my 

 fly within a yard — nay, a foot — of that very spot ! It 

 is a little far, the wind is wrong, and the bush awk- 

 ward, and if my hook catches in a bough I shall have 

 to break or go round nearly half a mile ; yet I must 

 venture all, for I know that the fish rises just under 

 the opposite bank. My next cast is a failure ; I have 

 miscalculated the distance or not allowed enough for 



