THE BASSES: FRES H w ATER AND MARINE 



whipped that water with my flies for more than an 

 hour and a half, and did n't get a rise, much less a 

 strike. The fish, to be sure, were on the jump, 

 and would come out of the water every second 

 almost in droves, behind, in front, and on either 

 side of my flies, and one old rascal swam up lei- 

 surely to my point fly, eyed it in a sort of What-are- 

 you-anyhow? way, then, demurely getting his body 

 at right angles with it, gave his broad tail a sort of 

 contemptuous flirt, throwing the fly at least three 

 feet to the left of the spot where it had been trail- 

 ing at the foot of a riffle. 



" I tried the pools, the rapids, the foam at the 

 breast of the dam, the quiet water below, and the 

 swirling rift between the rocks, but all to no effect. 

 They would not touch my lures. I waded out on 

 the dam to midstream; I tried every bug in my 

 fly-book and artificial and live minnows; I let my 

 flies sink under the water; I skittered them on top 

 of it; I bought gogglegoys from a bait-boy and 

 fished with them six feet down in the deep pools; 

 tried garden worms in a great bunch as big as an 

 eel-bob; dipped and trailed with grasshoppers, with 

 a young toad, a little sunfish, a juvenile bullhead, 

 here, there, and everywhere, but not a fish did I lure. 



" Account for it, boys ! I can't." 



" Well, that is rather a tough yarn; but, Mendy, 

 you should have tried the toodlebug-fly before you 

 gave it up," said Doc. 



80 



