CHAPTER XXVIII 



A FINAL CAST 



FOR a whole month, almost the last and one 

 of the best of the whole trouting season, we 

 have been guilty of neglecting the trout. 

 Instead we have attempted to induce dour, irre- 

 sponsive salmon to leave attenuated waters, but at 

 length, realising the folly of the one and the futility 

 of the other, we set out to the Clyde at Elvanfoot 

 for a final cast with the little ten-footer. 



After an absence of five years from what was 

 wont to be our favourite stretch, we are keen to 

 renew acquaintance, and we hurry through the 

 rushes and twisted grass of the broad holm, putting 

 together the rod as we go, though the haze of early 

 October plainly indicates that of haste there is no 

 need, that hopefulness must be awhile delayed. We 

 reach the banks of Clyde and halt in amazement. 



Never have we seen its pure waters so intensely 

 clear; right to the bottom of the deep pots with 

 their almost vertical sides of crumbling gravel we 

 see plainly ; here and there we notice patches of 

 bright white sand, with now and then a clump of 

 weed ; not a single trout do we detect, and we 

 begin to wonder if one has managed to survive the 

 season's fishing. 



That is not the end of our troubles. The wind 



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