A BASKET ON ALL FOOLS' 103 



rise. Finally we went home, about 5 p.m., inglorious, 

 with five trout between us handsome fish, it is true, 

 averaging over six ounces apiece, and in fine condition 

 for March, but sadly few in comparison with the catch of 

 our hopes. The March brown accounted for them all. 



Sunday was not a fishing day, so rain and wind did 

 not so much matter ; but as we watched the widening 

 puddles in the road, and heard the shrieking in the 

 chimneys, we had fears for the morrow. Monday was 

 deceptive. It dawned fair ; the river was not, after 

 all, out of order, and I rose a good fish almost at once. 

 But trouble was even then beginning. First uprose 

 the wind and stopped my upstream casting ; next the 

 river began to get muddy just as the rise was starting, 

 and it was a good hour before we discovered that the 

 discoloration was local, coming from a horrid little 

 ditch about half a mile above us ; thirdly, in eagerness 

 to make up for lost time, I got in over my waders, and 

 felt a "demmed moist body " for the rest of the day; 

 fourthly, it began to rain ; and, lastly, it blew a gale. 

 My bag consisted of three trout, two of them half- 

 pounders, while the Doctor had in the circumstances 

 earned glory by basketing no less than seven. We 

 retired at last before the elements, which became too 

 much for endurance. The March brown again did 

 nearly all the execution. 



On Tuesday the river really was unfishable, being 

 bank high and thick, so we started off for the reservoir 

 of which I have spoken. I had gained an idea that it 

 lay on a protuberance a mile or two off; but when, 

 after a five-mile drive, the Doctor showed me a vast 

 mountain which had to be climbed on foot, the reservoir 



