254 AN OPEN CREEL 



stantly turned to the fascinating clear spaces between 

 the weeds. Some day I am sure I shall see something 

 enormous in one of them, some pike huge enough to 

 make history. I have been of that mind for years, 

 and have not yet seen even the big fish which the lock- 

 keeper sees as he passes by a seventeen-pounder he 

 calls it ! Other people see it, too, so it must be there. 

 The fact that it can hide itself from me, as it does, 

 in a stretch where, with favouring light, one can see 

 almost every inch of bottom, every spray of weed, 

 makes me hopeful that there may also be a monster 

 which nobody has ever seen. 



I have, moreover, had proofs that the canal holds 

 secrets, and is slow to divulge them. I fished it for 

 two or three years before I had an inkling that there 

 were any trout in it. The thought of trout had never 

 even occurred to me. Why should they leave a noble 

 habitation like the Rennet to take up inferior lodgings 

 in an almost streamless piece of water full of pike ? 

 Then one August day, when a breeze was ruffling 

 the surface, I went out to spin for perch with a small 

 Devon minnow, and was presently amazed to see a big 

 trout follow the bait right across the canal almost to 

 my feet. He did not take it, but his appearance 

 opened new vistas, and a more careful watch was 

 kept on the likely spots. Eventually the fact was 

 established that there were one or two trout scattered 

 along the length of canal between the two locks, and 

 that they ought to be fished for. Accordingly, I fished 

 for them, and a tedious business it was, flogging away 

 with Alexandras and the like on windy days, with 

 never a rise to cheer one up, and with a constantly 



