190 TROUT LORE 



proud heads above the grass. Here and there 

 ripe sumacs, blushing red against green shrub- 

 bery, hint that the time for tying up the trout- 

 rod has all but arrived. August is utterly un- 

 like May, yet in a way is as attractive. 



For days at a time trout will refuse flies and 

 bait in midsummer; but when they do take it into 

 their heads to feed, the sport is furious. The 

 day in question did not seem propitious ; indeed, 

 all signs pointed to a fishless day. Yet trout 

 would rise to the hint or sign of a feather : some- 

 times not only one but three and four would 

 fairly tumble over themselves in their eagerness 

 to reach the fly. Even my stoical guide became 

 imbued with excitement and toiled at his paddle 

 uncomplainingly, blistering his hands and sweat- 

 ing copiously. I experienced no difficulty in 

 hooking fish; indeed, I could not take the fly 

 away from the little fellows quickly enough to 

 prevent their being hooked. In order to con- 

 tinue fishing and keep my self-respect it was 

 necessary to free every fish that was not hurt by 

 the hook ; which I did, to the great disgust of my 

 guide, who could not understand me at all. 

 High noon and hot sun made no difference : the 

 trout continued to rise by twos and threes. At 

 last, and it was a hard thing to do, I insisted on 



