50 FLY-FISHING IN MAINE LAKES. 



"What do you think of the prospect?" I asked 

 my guide, as we trudged along over the familiar 

 path. 



"It's my notion that they'll rise to-night: the 

 wind's got round to the south'ard, and there'll be 



just a good ripple. I'm thinking Mr. B will 



wish't he'd come along." 



" Don't you think you had better whistle to keep 

 my courage up ? Still the trout are there, and they 

 must be getting hungry." 



"'Well, it won't take us long to find out, Mr. 

 Stevens : " this last remark was made as he pushed 

 the boat off from her moorings, and sprang into 

 her. 



Our fishing-grounds were but a few minutes' pull 

 from the shore, and we were soon at anchor and 

 ready to receive visitors. 



I had changed my casts several times during the 

 day, and now had a casting-line with a couple of 

 nondescript flies, which I had found in my old 

 book as it was left from the year before. 



"There's a swirl," said Cutting, as he points over 

 my left shoulder : " and there's another, and no 

 fool of a fish." 



" Hadn't we better get to work? " 



Things looked a little encouraging, to say the 

 least. " Ah, there's another ! " " Yes, and we'll 



