212 THE GREAT LAKE TROUT 



There is no better bait for these monsters than one 

 of their own younger brethren ; but on this occasion I 

 had provided some beautiful dace and gudgeon, such 

 as you may procure, perfectly preserved in formalin, 

 from any good tackle-maker. One of each of these 

 tempting morsels, duly fixed on Archer flights, was 

 soon spinning forty yards astern of the launch, and 

 decks were cleared for action. They ought to be so 

 cleared, because when Master Ferox makes up his mind 

 he leaves no doubt in yours as to his intentions. He 

 means to have your fishlet, and when he finds it won't 

 come off the hooks, 'By gum!' says he, 'but I'll just 

 read this beggar a lesson. I'll run out a hundred 

 yards of his line and then 111 smash him see if I 

 don't ! ' And down he dives into the amazing pro- 

 fundity of a Highland loch. Woe, woe unto him who 

 hath a flaw in his tackle or an untimely kink in his 

 line ! He shall carry with him to the end of his days 

 a weight of misery which only an angler knows ; for is 

 there any anguish so poignant and so enduring as the 

 loss of a big fish ? 



And here the narrative of this day's fishing might 

 be brought to a close. In spite of untiring diligence 

 sustained for nine mortal hours in spite of favouring 

 wind and changeful sky conditions which could not 

 have been improved to order not a single ferox 

 thumped out his life on the bottom of our craft. It 

 required the memory of bygone triumphs to assure me 

 that the aristocracy of this loch were neither few nor 

 small. Nine small trout, averaging not more than a 



