A BOOK OF FISHING STORIES 



There was yet another time, in Norway also, when I be- 

 lieve I lost an equally golden opportunity, and this time the 

 disappointment was the more bitter because entirely due to 

 my own carelessness. Fish will escape now and then, and 

 fishing would, indeed, be dull work if they did not, so that we 

 fishermen should either acquire or assume so much philosophy 

 as will enable us to bow to the decrees of Providence without 

 repining too bitterly ; but the regret is aggravated in cases 

 where the loss of a fish is due to carelessness. Let me cite a 

 typical case. You are fishing with a rocky slope behind you. 

 The cast is difficult, and you have to cover a wide expanse of 

 water if your fly is to cover the pool properly and to hang temp- 

 tingly in spots where the best fish lie. In such circumstances 

 prudence dictates that the hook should frequently be examined 

 with care to make sure that the barb has not been knocked off 

 against a boulder. Everybody is quite aware of the need for 

 this simple precaution, yet I feel pretty confident that I am not 

 the only fisherman who has put off the necessary inspection 

 for just one more cast, only to feel a tug and find his line come 

 back slack to him, simply because he is fishing with a barbless 

 hook. Or, again, towards the end of a long day's fishing, you 

 look at your cast and notice one place where the gut looks a 

 little frayed, possibly from a fish having rubbed it against a 

 stone. In your inner consciousness, you know perfectly well 

 that the cast ought to be changed, or at any rate tested ; but, 

 after a half-hearted tug, you decide that it will do till you get 

 down to the boat where you have left your box with the mackin- 

 tosh. Then comes the rise, and back comes the line, minus 



80 



