142 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



first fly's struggle to free itself from the shell in which 

 it has grown to be so wonderfully perfect. 



The keeper, being the most obser\'ant, was the 

 first to see a fly, and called our attention to it. 'There's 

 a fly, gentlemen. Let's go back and put the rods 

 together. The rise may be earher to-day; there are 

 some clouds and a nice breeze.' 



So we returned to the bridge for our tackle, keeping 

 well from the river, and here my friend decided that 

 I had better fish below, and he above. 'You go for 

 the patriarch, Geen. Lve had enough of him. But, 

 mind, none of your ninnows; the lad you have with 

 you knows all the difference between a minnow and 

 a fly.' 



The green drake we had seen must have been an 

 eccentric, for it was two hours before I saw another, 

 and my friend and the keeper were out of sight when 

 I saw the first rise of a fish. I worked hard over it 

 without result, until called a little farther by another 

 rise, where my efforts were equall}^ unsuccessful. 



By this time the flies were swarming, and I had 

 a choice among the rising fish. I went for the one 

 that seemed the largest, and the fly behaved so nicely 

 as to deceive a trout, which fought with every ounce 

 of his three pounds, first by two sudden leaps and then 

 by exploring the weeds, thereby testing my cast 

 severely, l^efore surrendering. 



The next I hooked would, I reckoned, be a fit com- 

 panion for the one I had, but it turned out to be a chub 

 of such a size as I should have valued at another time 

 and in another place. j\Iy disappointment was of 

 short duration, as I was soon fast in a fish about which 

 there could be no doubt; it rose so close to me that I 

 could see it plainly, and fortunately it was in a pool 

 clear of weeds or I should probably have lost it, as 

 it weighed nearly five pounds and was very slightly 

 hooked. 



I vnU. not speak of my smaller captures; I prefer 



