DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 163 



telling you of my efforts to secure the thirteen- 

 pounder. I was content to watch the spot a while 

 to see if he had yet succumbed to the fascination 

 of the all-fascinating drake. Would he rise? I 

 smoked two pipes at least before a great swirl 

 answered the question and gave me a thrill of 

 hope. 



I did all I knew but it was only the natural fly 

 that he would notice. By this time I was aroused 

 and had no thoughts but for that particular fish. 

 A natural fly seemed the only chance and to use it 

 with success I must cross the river and get the 

 breeze behind me. So, round we hastened and got 

 opposite the spot just in time to see him rise again 

 amongst the little waves. While I changed my 

 hook the boy captured flies and but little time elapsed 

 before I was offering two of them upon a hook. 

 Aided by the wind I got them neatly to the three- 

 feet circle whence the patriarch had so far selected 

 all his victims. Two at a time must have tickled 

 his fancy, for up he came, took them, and was back 

 again among the weeds before I had a chance. I 

 got on the greatest pressure that I could as quickly 

 as might be and this, probably, made him feel the 

 hook, for he made a rush, entangled the line and 

 broke me. 



A day with the May-fly is an event all anglers 

 should have a taste of, as the tide of hope is then at 

 its fullest. What my basket might have been had 

 I not courted the prize my tackle did not hold I can 

 only think of, but I know that my friend had a 

 catch of Kennet trout of which he was very proud, 

 as well he might be, for he had four brace, the 

 smallest two pounds and the largest six pounds. 



