166 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



line drawn at right angles to the course of the 

 stream from the point of the fence to the opposite 

 bank would have passed through that trout, just 

 behind the gills. So my mind is quite easy. His 

 head was in my water. Let the other fellow 

 have his tail. Having put this trout down, I 

 passed on ; and so much for our preliminary 

 skirmish. 



I thought no more about him till the next day 

 when, approaching the place, I remembered the 

 rise of the day before and came warily to the 

 bank. A short description of the theatre of war 

 may not be superfluous. 



I was confined here to one side of the river, 

 which at this point is about twenty yards broad. 

 No one can wade in the Slow Water and live. 

 The bank is three feet high. A line of tall willows 

 fringes it thickly. One of them is missing, the 

 one next the fence. This alone makes it possible 

 to cast across the stream. Crouching close to the 

 fence and working the point perpendicularly, it can 

 be done, for I learned to do it. On one's imme- 

 diate right the entanglements of Sir Bran menace 

 rod and tackle. On one's immediate left is a 

 spreading willow. Oh, it was a happy little 

 corner for a bungling fool to fish away in it 

 some of the best hours of his life. 



The position, then, demands a perfectly straight 



