202 Trout in a Thunder-Storm. 



in the eddy were excited and angry be- 

 cause they had not snatched the flies first. 



Meanwhile the forest had grown darker 

 and darker. The great banks of inky 

 black clouds were low over our heads. 

 Quivering flashes of lightning lighted up 

 the mountains, and the heavy thunder 

 shook the very ground and reverberated 

 and echoed. 



Cast after cast we made, and the trout 

 seemed invigorated by the rigor of the 

 elements. Big lusty fellows made the 

 spray fly as they plunged after our flies 

 with might and main. Some in their 

 eagerness dashed clear over the flies and 

 turned double somersaults in the air. At 

 almost every cast a trout was hooked, and 

 a sight of our bent rods and whirring reels 

 would have made the Sphinx arise and 

 whoop for joy just for once. 



A gale rushed through the tops of the 

 pines, and as they bent before the blast 

 and the wind soughed through their 

 branches the big drops began to fall. 

 Still we fished until Dick fairly dragged 

 us to the boat, which he had pulled up on 



