246 LATE OCTOBER GRAYLING FISHING. 



could not reach the rise there was no harm in 

 throwing just for practice; as wild horses would 

 not have dragged me to put a footprint on the 

 other side of the dividing ditch. 



Gradually the line was got out; loop after 

 loop added yards to the false casts without any 

 suspicion of a hitch up behind. There were 

 still two loops of heavy line in my left hand as 

 I made the throw, and never did they slip 

 through the rings more glibly, or shoot out in 

 a more perfect manner. The fly pitched a full 

 foot above the last rise and, to my terror, it 

 was taken. 



As I struck, the grayling jumped clear out 

 of the water higher and more vigorously than 

 ever one did before or has done since made a 

 swift semicircle across to the opposite side, far 

 away under the rushes of the broad pool, and 

 then went down stream. As I stood and wound 

 up the coils of slack line, I honestly prayed 

 that he was not on. But he was. Hurrying 

 round the bend, I got him on a very short line 

 and began to walk down the bank, feeling so 

 guilty that I longed each moment for a parting 

 to be naturally brought about, yet all the time 

 treating him so judiciously that it did not occur. 

 Into every deep pool and current he dived and 

 wriggled : then lost ground, swam down stream, 

 and turned again to worry. 



By this time I had come over four hundred 

 yards, and worse than all, had passed another) 

 angler who was walking up. Twice I tried to 

 net the fish, knowing full well he was not ready 



