THE EVENING 93 



across the centre torrent, came for a brief instant 

 into the field of vision a huge whitish figure which 

 positively dwarfed the others. But it sheered off 

 again and was seen no more. 



As for the capture of a brace or a leash of these 

 prodigious fish I have no intention of relating it. 

 All flies, of course, were tried, tried with fury. Some 

 of them tilted a nose or so. One, and one only, 

 opened a cavernous pair of jaws. But eventually 

 the light failed as before, the shapes faded from 

 view one by one, and the opportunity was gone. 

 Never have I known anything more tantalising. 

 For I am sure I have never in my life seen so many 

 really big trout at such close quarters, or so massed 

 that one fly might conceivably rise any one of them. 

 In sober earnestness I believe the smallest of the 

 lot was well over three pounds. 



The rest of the evening, about half an hour when 

 facing the afterglow, was ridiculous. I settled down 

 to besiege a big trout in the main river rising close 

 under my own bank. Sometimes he came up with 

 a resounding plop close in, sometimes more gently 

 about a foot out. I tried five different patterns 

 over him and finally hooked him on a blue upright 

 in the outer position. He jumped when hooked and 

 fell in again with a miserable little splash. There 

 had been two fish, great-grandfather and great- 

 grandson, rising side by side, and my long and 



