232 AN OPEN CREEL 



which was a pool that yields better than most when 

 the stream is low. In this pool I saw three fish jump, 

 tried them in vain with various flies, and at last put a 

 spoon over them. All three came at it, but only one 

 meant business, a strong but ugly little cock of seven 

 and a half pounds. That was the only capture, but I 

 regarded the day as well filled, for I got two rises in 

 other pools, one with a Wilkinson and the other with a 

 small, dark fly whose name I know not. The morrow 

 stimulated one fish only to move in a pool where I had 

 hitherto seen nothing, but the stimulus was not enough 

 to make him take. On Saturday it blew a gale from 

 the south-west and rained at intervals. My rod and I 

 disagreed. I was all for the fly, but the seventeen feet 

 of greenheart refused to throw it straight, and tied 

 three knots for me in the single gut. I undid them 

 patiently, took the implied hint, and put on the spoon, 

 which certainly went out better across the wind. It 

 also caught a fish of twelve pounds, and so made my 

 total five salmon in a fortnight no bad result when 

 fish were so few and sulky. 



It rained all night, and the river rose about a foot on 

 Sunday. It dropped again in the night, and there was 

 a slight frost. On Monday I found it intensely cold, 

 having to get out of the water every half-hour or so and 

 stamp about to get warm. I was fishing the top pool 

 of the water, which was in fair order. But the wind 

 was trying, and there were more knots in the cast. 

 Again I had to take to the spoon, and again it served 

 me well, as I killed a fish of seven and a half pounds 

 with it. I had seen him rise twice as though he were 

 a taker, but he had refused at intervals the Tweed fly, 



