DRY-FLY FISHING 



minutes. I asked whether he wanted any more 

 caught and he remarked in forceful English "give 

 them HELL." I had three more rods in the boat 

 and began at the upper run where the fish had re- 

 turned by this time. The second cast raised the 

 fish and a few more hooked one. By this time 

 Mr. B. had landed the first sixteen-pound fish and 

 I gave him the rod with the second fish. He 

 seemed to be having the time of his life. These 

 two stirred up the run pretty well but there was 

 an eighteen-pound fish waiting in the smooth 

 current and he was soon hooked and Mr. B. was 

 finally converted to the dry fly. I did not feel 

 like imposing further on a stranger who had been 

 so polite and, as the fish rose slowly, we went back 

 to camp. On the way as we were passing the great 

 bunch of fish in the spring- water I asked if I could 

 break off a hook and show him how they could be 

 made to rise, so that he could catch them later 

 with my type of flies. He told me to "go to it" 

 and hook all I liked. I felt like a convict released 

 from prison. Looking at that bunch just made 

 shivers run up and down my back. I got the canoe 

 in position about sixty feet to the side and placed 

 a nice cast over the edge of the bunch. What I 

 had expected happened, several fish came at once 



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