206 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



I gave him the order and marched off home, rather 

 out of temper at my want of success. 



At the time appointed I went to meet my ento- 

 mological rustic, and he produced the fly from his 

 pocket. There was not the least pretence about it 

 for it was literally the tuft of hair off the end of a 

 calf's tail, with two large green glass beads fixed as 

 eyes, one on each side. One glance at the way the 

 hook flight was arranged told me he was a true 

 brother of the gentle craft. To my astonishment he 

 declined the proffered half-crown, saying : ' Doan't ye 

 niver buy a pig in a poke, 'taint healthy. Arter ye've 

 tried 'un ye ken pay J un ; I shan't be fur off. I ain't 

 got no leave ter fish, so I'll jest clear out. Them 

 there jacks lays 'twixt the runs in the weeds. Let 

 'em hev it.' 



That rare fly was thrown into one of the runs, and 

 gently drawn on the surface towards us. Splash ! and 

 jack number one was fixed and soon landed. Four 

 times this process was repeated, with the result that 

 four nice-sized fish were landed : more than enough 

 to satisfy one who never cared for fish diet. On 

 leaving the pond I was met by our rustic flymaker. I 

 smiled at him. 



' Tis all right, I knows, master. That 'ere fly hev 

 jest done the trick clean.' 



