IN CAMP. 39 



The first cast I made, I struck the top log of a 

 pier with my tail-fly, and, while I was gazing at 

 a broken tip, had the supreme satisfaction of seeing 

 Charlie net a two-pound trout a short distance 

 from me ; but, as the said Charlie had always in- 

 sisted that I would break my neck, I viewed this 

 slight disaster with complacency. Adjusting a new 

 tip, and taking a better survey of my background, 

 my next cast was more successful, and before my 

 flies had hardly touched the water, a trout rose to 

 each ; I struck and hooked them both : so sudden 

 and unexpected was this response to my invitation, 

 that nothing but the sharp click of the reel brought 

 me to my senses. Round the pool in a circle they 

 dashed like a pair of circus-horses ; once, twice, 

 three times, did they follow each other, swift as the 

 wind, in the same pathway ; then for a moment, as 

 if pausing to consider the situation, they halted, 

 sank to the bottom, and sulked. " Are they gone ? " 

 echoed a voice from above. " Not much," was the 

 reply, as I wiped a little tar and perspiration from 

 my brow ; " merely giving us both a breathing- 

 spell." Before the words were fairly uttered, they 

 were up and at it again. For full fifteen minutes I 

 played those two trout : they were beauties, mettle- 

 some and gamey as one could wish ; but the little 

 seven-ounce rod was too much for them, and they 



