182 TROUT FISHING 



to rise, while all others became events. " Did you 

 do anything on the long flat ? " one would ask. To 

 which another would reply, " Yes, I had quite a 

 brisk bit of sport there. Got two breakfast fish, 

 and lost a real big one, a quarter-pounder at least." 

 The " big one which got away " was, I think, 

 unusually prominent that year. He afflicted me 

 personally to a grievous extent. 



Perhaps the worst experience was with the 

 detestable button on the sleeve of Caradoc's mackin- 

 tosh. It was on the last day of all, when we really 

 had had a nice drop of rain and the river was in 

 grand order. In quite a short time during the 

 morning I had accumulated five handsome fish, of 

 which two were half-pounders by the class test. 

 But then trouble began, for the wind uprose and 

 beat the rain on my glasses, no fish stirred, I lost 

 half a cast and both the flies, and generally things 

 went wrong. Just as I was getting desperate I 

 hooked a fine trout, and my spirits went up with a 

 bound. He played fast and far, but I was his 

 master. That trout, half-pounder though he might 

 be, was as good as in the basket. I felt with un- 

 hurried left hand for the net in the sling, meanwhile 

 drawing the trout downstream. And then the 

 button on the sleeve saw fit to catch in the meshes 

 of the net, and in a flash my mastery was gone. 

 Not only could I not get the net out; I could not 



