Casting the Fly. 347 



with its ruins abundant cover. Above and below I 

 knew the stream well, and hundreds of trout had taken 

 my flies therein. 



The descending sun warned us that we would be be- 

 nighted in the woods before we could regain our .camp, 

 as we entered the foot of the pool which we determined 

 should mark our return. Yet not even one single rise 

 had I had all day. It may be they had abandoned that 

 portion of the river on the way to their spawning-beds, 

 or they may have taken a pledge of total abstinence; 

 but whatever the cause, such was the result, and a suf- 

 ficiently aggravating result it was. For we had footed 

 it four miles through the woods, and had forced a boat 

 through some six or seven miles of quick water, the lat- 

 ter part greatly obstructed, and had cast all day long at 

 every available opportunity, and had as yet caught noth- 

 ing. A like return intervened between us and both 

 food and shelter. 



We entered the pool, the canoe gliding slowly over its 

 placid surface under the impulse of John's skilful pad- 

 dle. The still water was perhaps a hundred and fifty 

 feet long, some seventy-five feet wide, and of unknown 

 depth. Over and among " coarse rocks " the river poured 

 in a heavy rapid into its upper end, and left it in the same 

 manner. Surely few pools approach more closely the an- 

 gler's ideal. The overhanging forest forced us to take 

 pretty well to the middle, that there might be room for the 

 back cast, and the position of the canoe compelled a cast 

 somewhat ahead rather than abeam, in order that the fly 

 should light where the trout, if any, might be expected 

 to lie. The motion of the boat in the direction of the 

 cast continually tended to slacken the line, for which 

 compensation had to be made by abbreviating the time 



