230 AN ANGLER'S HOURS xm 



willows about four feet apart onto the pool. 

 As happens three times out of four in this 

 sort of fishing, the March brown refuses to 

 have anything to do with water or trout, and 

 clings tenaciously to one of the willow twigs. 

 The angler jerks at it, hoping to free it 

 without moving, but the wretched thing 

 only clings the tighter. What happens then 

 depends on the nature of the man. He may 

 pull till the cast breaks, put on another fly 

 and endeavour to reach the water again, or 

 he may rise patiently and release the willow. 

 In the one case the odds are that the second 

 fly will join its fellow on the twig, for in 

 brook-fishing accidents have a habit of 

 repeating themselves ; in the other, any trout 

 that may be lying abroad in the pool will of 

 course see him and depart hurriedly. 



After this occurrence he goes cautiously 

 along the bank, lurking behind trees, crouch- 

 ing behind bushes and losing flies. I would 

 draw a more cheering picture if I could, but 

 truth is precious, and in fact he does lose 

 many flies. It requires a deal of skill and 

 more of luck to flick a fly with any accu- 

 racy, and flick he must, for there is not a 

 spot in the whole backwater to which it is 



