92 AN OPEN CREEL 



bait, a wagtail. Esox's fate is as good as sealed, when 

 the keener weather comes along. It is a blood-thirsty, 

 comforting thought. By the wagtail hangs an old pair 

 of grey wings, a sometime artificial Mayfly the same, 

 it may be, that lured the five-pounder which fed by the 

 post twenty yards above the bridge. A notable capture 

 was that ; it makes one sigh for the roses and raptures 

 of June. It befell just after tea, one has heard, the 

 time of all others to get a big fish, for it leaves some 

 hours for the making of that brace which all men 

 covet the par nobile fratrum of their dreams. 



A third cup of tea (the weather being so hot and 

 thundery), and the heart mellows still more. Why, it 

 was after tea that the five-pounder was caught, and even 

 in August there are hours after tea. There should be 

 an evening rise by all the rules, and the blank may yet 

 be broken. So up and away to the bridge with hope 

 renewed. From the bridge the long shallow is visible. 

 On it are big grayling, and were not a few ponderous 

 trout. At half-past five the former should begin to 

 rise, at half-past six the latter. And so till dark there 

 will be no lack of employment. Ah, there, sixty yards 

 away, is a big swirling ring ; the three-pound grayling, 

 surely ! Yes, and again. He will undoubtedly rise at 

 a fly cunningly presented. The stile in the hedge must 

 be climbed and the meadow crossed circuitously, 

 lest heavy footsteps near the bank alarm the fish. 

 Now for a subtle approach on two knees and one hand. 

 Lo ! the commotion again just outside that solitary 

 rush. But, alas ! what is that ? An impudent little 

 head raised for a moment and then gone bewrays the 

 dabchick. It was not the three-pound grayling at all, and 



