SOME RENNET DAYS 55 



assiduously, and convinced myself that, except during 

 the Mayfly season, the big ones would rise at nothing 

 whatsoever, unless it might be at great sedges in the 

 twilight of the long summer evenings. Even while 

 the Mayfly was on my efforts among the monsters 

 were conspicuously unsuccessful a fish of about two 

 and a half pounds was the biggest I was able to secure. 

 I had, indeed, seen fish heavier much heavier but 

 they mostly stood on their heads and waved their tails 

 in the air, supremely indifferent to surface-food and 

 dry-fly anglers alike. My season on the fishery made 

 me profoundly sceptical as to its uses as a dry-fly 

 water, except during the first half of June. Therefore, 

 when Hyandry told tales of three-pounders feeding 

 steadily on olives in April, I said that I should much 

 like to see those marvels for myself or, in other words, 

 that he lied. 



He had, moreover, had reverses, a circumstance 

 which often stimulates incredulity. One monster, for 

 example, ran with super-piscine swiftness downstream, 

 doubled, jumped, and got off; another reversed these 

 tactics, making upstream to begin with, but equally 

 getting off. A third I forget what it did, but it looked 

 like a five-pounder, and got off. The fourth and here 

 we come to the curious part of the story did not get 

 off. It was played with consummate skill (Hyandry 

 knows his business ; has he not captured vast sea trout 

 with the dry fly ?), landed, and brought home in triumph. 

 It weighed two pounds fourteen ounces, and was 

 seen by credible persons. This fact certainly lent 

 some colour to my friend's assertions. There, he 

 could demonstrate with calm simplicity, was the fish. 



