XLII 



OF DEPARTURE 



TO-MORROW we go away. 

 In half an hour it will be too dark to fish. 



Let us hurry on to the Mill pool. I always 

 hurry on to the Mill pool, for it used to be the best 

 place on the river. Here is broad water and deep, 

 scooping out the bank in a great S all along which 

 the little dimpling rises were wont long ago to tell 

 of great feeding trouts. I always hope to see 

 them again. 



Perhaps to-night. 



Below the Mill hatch is camp sheathing, thirty 

 yards of it and rough water against it. And you 

 know what that means. Only this summer it 

 doesn't. Below the camp sheathing is a willow. 

 Its roots, in the rough water, always hold a patch 

 of floating weed, and you know what that ought 

 to mean. 



Below this willow is a thin rapid which is never 

 without its rises (but they are all little graylings 

 this year). And out on the glide beyond there was 



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