160 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



two rats chasing each other, whether for fun, love 

 or anger, I did not discover as they discovered me 

 and dived. 



Here conies a man the cut of whose garments 

 proclaims him keeper. I hope I am not trespass- 

 ing by wandering beyond the boundary line. I 

 was, and had soon to learn it, and his inquiry : 

 " Have you caught any?" while I was busy with 

 my wet rag killing all I could, caused me to say : 

 " Millions, man, millions." This reply staggered 

 him and he looked at me to see if there was any- 

 thing strange about me besides my speech. I took 

 it as a compliment that he thought me sane enough 

 to be asked again: " Have you caught any?" 

 While speaking he looked and saw my creel was 

 empty. I took off my hat that he might better see 

 the havoc the flies had wrought and found that its 

 brim was closely freckled with the little wretches, 

 waiting, I suppose, their turn for a vacant spot. 

 That keeper must have been sent by the Fates to 

 tempt me. He smoked and smilingly informed me 

 that smoking kept them off. I was sorely tempted, 

 and fear I should have fallen from my high resolve, 

 but just then my sons returned to take me in the 

 boat and we left the river to the flies. 



The anglers' joy with flies is sometimes so great 

 that they wait their coming with a patience that 

 they are lacking in for all else. They will smoke 

 away long hours on a river's bank with ears that 

 lengthen to detect a splash, and with eyes opened 

 to their widest for the first ring that shall tell of a 

 rising fish. There's a ring and there's a splash, 

 and then more rings and splashes, and soon the 

 river is as full of life and tumult as before it 



