58 AN OPEN CREEL 



leisure. In fact, I discovered that such a misfortune 

 had happened to an angler the day before, and that he 

 had lost both fly and trout. Conscious of the difficulties 

 of the place, but more conscious of the trout feeding, 

 I began excitedly. He was rising only a little above 

 the point of the weed-rack, and I had to cast slightly 

 downstream to cover him without drag. 



The first fly was a medium olive quill on a oo hook, 

 and he bulged at it twice. Then he took it, and, 

 horror ! I felt that he was pricked and missed, entirely 

 by my own fault, for I struck too soon. I could have 

 kicked myself, and was abusing my folly, when up he 

 came again as eager as ever. A change of fly might 

 still save the situation. This time it was a medium 

 olive dun on a o hook, and he took it fair and square 

 the first time it came over him. I now realized to 

 the full the nature of the place, for he went irresistibly 

 downstream, while I hurried up to get the line clear 

 of the posts. Between us we made the reel scream, 

 and I was sure that I should never see the fish any 

 closer. But mercifully a memory came to me of 

 previous fights in which guile had triumphed over 

 force. Instead of trying to hold the fish, I slackened 

 pressure until the line was no more than a light rein 

 on him, and he stopped within a foot of the lowest 

 post, and began to think it over. It took a longish 

 time, but foot by foot he was coaxed upstream until 

 he was clear of the weed-rack altogether, and was 

 swimming meditatively about in front of me. Then 

 something perhaps the sight of the net, which I was 

 getting ready started him off again, and he once 

 more went helter-skelter for the weed-rack, this time 



