300 AN OPEN CREEL 



The other angler had gone off upstream, so I put on 

 a spinning-trace and Thames flight, mounted a three- 

 and-a-half-inch dace, and began to spin from the weir- 

 bridge. One trout came at the bait almost at once, on 

 the shelf of gravel at the tail of the pool ; but he evi- 

 dently did not mean business, and I saw no more of 

 him. Then in the rough water close to the sill in the 

 right-hand corner, I saw the head and shoulders of an 

 acquaintance one of two old friends I had come more 

 particularly to seek. In about three seconds the dace 

 was spinning just over the spot, and the head and 

 shoulders appeared again at once. The tremendous 

 downward plunge the fish gave as he felt the hook was 

 terrifying, and I felt sure the rather light trace would 

 go. Fortunately, however, the reel ran free, and there 

 was no break. There were other nervous moments 

 afterwards, for the trout was quite mad. He jumped 

 several times, jiggered like a lightly hooked salmon, 

 bored, rushed, and generally fought wildly. I made 

 certain that he was scarcely hooked at all, and that he 

 would get off. But the hold did not give, and the pace 

 was too hot to last long ; after about four minutes I 

 had him over the net, into it, and on the bank. He 

 weighed four and a half pounds, and was, I think, the 

 most perfectly shaped fish I ever saw, except one from 

 the same water which weighed a pound less. He was 

 almost worthy of a glass case for his beauty. 



Having consigned him tenderly to the basket, I put 

 on a new bait and tried for the other old friend, who 

 must be at least a pound heavier. For a few thrilling 

 seconds I thought I had him. A trout swirled at the 

 bait in the left-hand corner of the pool, seized it, and 



