OF OBERHAUSEN ON A SEA-STREAM 253 



To do myself justice, the Herr Dr. Oberhausen 

 and MacAlister, my good comrades, had done 

 the same, and they are professed sea-trout fishers. 

 Nothing but small finnocks had been caught, 

 and we held the place cheaply. Still, finnocks 

 are better than nothing at all, and it was for 

 finnocks that I hoped that afternoon. I carried 

 a light greenheart. My gut was the same drawn 

 stuff that I had been using on the lake. 1 put 

 on a Yellow Pennell, and cast it into the tum- 

 bling water. Tug ! A giant fish had me at its 

 mercy. Whir-r-r ! The reel screamed. Splash ! 

 The great fish left the water. Good-bye ! The 

 gut had parted, naturally. My eyes were opened. 

 I soaked a stout cast thoroughly ; I bended it 

 to my line. I tied on another Pennell; I threw 

 it in. Tug ! Whir-r-r ! Splash ! as before ; but 

 the gut held, and we had at it. The fish did 

 what he pleased with me. In that rush of water 

 he ran out line in the manner of the fabled 

 tarpon. I may have played him for fifteen 

 seconds. Then he went into the seaweed the 

 bright, golden, tough, abundant seaweed and 

 then I went in after him and recovered my fly 

 with some difficulty. And there my sport ended 

 for the day, for not another rise had I. This was 

 not to be borne. Next day, rather earlier on 

 the ebb, I was there with a double-handed split- 



