174 AN OPEN CREEL 



up. I could see him plainly, a desirable pounder, and 

 at last decided to doff my footgear and wade out to him 

 with the net. This proceeding started him off again 

 with the fly and eighteen inches of point. A new 

 point and a new fly a little later produced another rise. 

 I felt the fish, and he was off. Afterwards two trout 

 were hooked in quick succession hooked well. Both 

 got off after a brief run. I then inspected the fly, to 

 find that it had no barb. The third fly cracked off in 

 a puff of wind, and the fourth hooked a fish which went 

 to weed in precisely the same way as the other, and 

 with precisely the same result, except that I did not 

 wade in. It was at this point, when I realized that I 

 no longer had any of the right flies, that I am pretty 

 certain I gazed with considerable intentness at that 

 horizon which seems to border a better and happier 

 world the Bibury glare, in fact. One thing consoles 

 me. A little later I had a distant view of my host 

 that noticing man as he struck, played, and lost a fish. 

 I will not say that he smote the horizon with his rod, 

 but his attitude suggested the possibility of such a 

 thing. Had I seen that earlier, I should very likely 

 have been encouraged to throw my oil-bottle into the 

 river, shallow as it was. 



To tell the truth, the Coin at Bibury is full of traps 

 for the temper. To begin with, it has the volume of a 

 brook in the bed of a river ; that is to say, it seems 

 extraordinarily shallow to a man accustomed to the 

 Itchen and similar streams. Further, it is clear as 

 crystal owing to the springs, and it is so full of trout 

 that it is difficult to cover a fish without putting three 

 others down, or, rather, sending them furrowing away, 



