TROUT-FISHING IN GALICIA 157 



" Bah ! " exclaimed the rustic, " the fish that take that 

 thing [pointing to the fly] must be born fools." He 

 probably thought the person who used such a bait to be 

 as great a fool as the fish which took it, but the Ruthenian 

 peasant does not dare to voice his opinion regarding his 

 betters outside the precincts of his mud hovel. In the 

 circuitous manner peculiar to his race, my new friend 

 begged for largess with which to purchase tobacco. 

 Having bestowed a twenty kreuzer piece upon him, I 

 asked how he and his fellows caught their fish. " Rake 

 up the bottom with a pole and spear them with a four- 

 tine eel-spear. Or," went on my bucolic instructor, 

 " when the stream is narrow and shallow enough we build 

 a dam across it, and [with a grin] we sometimes catch a 

 cartload of fish." 



Alas ! that the fishing laws of Galicia, or rather 

 Austria, are so lax. 



Bidding the peasant carry my landing-net and creel, 

 I fished steadily and carefully down stream, picking up 

 a trout here and a dace or chub there as I went. Neither 

 of the first-named fish exceeded three ounces, however, 

 and, somewhat tired of catching such pigmies, I deter- 

 mined to fish back to the starting-point. At the last 

 cast, however, my fly was taken like lightning, and as 

 I struck a beautiful two-pounder leapt high out of the 

 water, and had I not dropped the point of my rod as he 

 fell back I should in all probability have been smashed. 

 For quite fifteen minutes did that speckled beauty fight 

 manfully for his freedom, and during the mad rushes he 

 made I quite expected to see him carry away my fine- 

 drawn cast into his sanctuary amongst a cluster of big 

 boulders. In spite of his gallant battling, however, he 



