A BOOK OF FISHING STORIES 



angler must use every subtlety he can think of to avoid being 

 seen, crawling and hiding behind any bit of cover there is. 

 Should there be no cover, there is nothing for it but to throw 

 a long line. The ability to get out twenty to twenty-five 

 yards of line is more valuable in chub fishing than in any 

 other kind of fly-fishing. 



It is good to be able to watch the whole process, from the 

 moment when the fish has first been spotted to the moment 

 when the Zulu falls heavily not far from his tail, and he whips 

 sharply round to see what is the matter, follows the fly as it is 

 drawn slowly away, and then absorbs it into his capacious 

 mouth. It requires steadiness of nerve on the angler's part 

 not to strike too quickly. A premature strike will simply pull 

 the fly away and cause the fish to protest by a great swirl, after 

 which he disappears, to be regretted evermore as at least a 

 5 -pounder. 



Now and then I have found a big shoal of chub of which 

 every member has seemed anxious to be caught first. A day 

 of light breezes and alternate sun and cloud after a heavy 

 thunderstorm is the kind of day when this happens. The 

 oddest experience I ever had, I think, was on such a morning. 

 In a tributary of the Thames a shoal of chub lived in a pool 

 lined with willows, and as both anglers and boats were plenti- 

 ful, the fish were usually quite proof against attack. But on 

 this occasion they had forgotten their caution, and they jostled 

 each other in their efforts to seize the small fly which I cast at 

 them from a boat on the shallow side of the pool. Nor did 

 they stop at jostling. As each fish was hooked and played the 



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