146 FISHING FOR PLEASURE 



again the fly came away. These were the only 

 salmon I hooked, and with the exception of one 

 hooked by McNaghten, which I landed, and 

 getting one or two rises, this was all we did, 

 although we tried every pool at least twice in the 

 day. How many thousand casts I made for 

 some half dozen offers from the fish I do not 

 know, but there is something inexpressibly fas- 

 cinating in watching your salmon fly, as you can 

 nearly always do when looking down into a pool 

 from a perch on the rocks above, with a short 

 line small as it is, and we used nothing much 

 over an inch in length, you can see the blue or 

 yellow, or whatever colour predominates, as the 

 fly works along in the swirly dark water over the 

 critical spot. " You see that break in the side of 

 the rock on the far side, sir, where the water 

 goes in under, that's where he will come." 



" Do you think he will come, McNaghten?" I 

 said as the fly came out of the little dark cavern 

 where the stream had taken it after the cast. 

 "That is the beauty of salmon fishing, sir, you 

 never know. I have seen many a fish come and 

 take just where the fly is now. Work it a trifle 

 faster just there they follow it out from under 

 the rock." "Try him again, sir." McNaghten 

 was always hopeful, at any rate, he let me lose 

 no chance, as far as he could help it. I know 

 that I missed one or two through not striking 

 promptly. One gets slack after casting for hours, 



