68 MOSTLY ABOUT TROUT 



Flanders trenches, keep me dry and warm as I 

 flounder through shallow water, sometimes 

 blundering into unfamiliar deep channels, some- 

 times sticking in muddy spots, always keeping 

 an eye on the stream for signs of life. 



This is a wonderful part for fly. Succulent 

 little olives and some large grey flies that I 

 cannot identify are floating down, poised lightly 

 on the surface, especially round one spot where 

 I hooked a monster last year, a deep, light- 

 coloured fish in the pink of condition. He 

 was very lightly hooked, and the fly came away 

 at once. I never saw him again during that 

 season ; the weeds were shaved off closely 

 next day, the water fell many inches, and he 

 fled from publicity. Now the water is deeper 

 again, and the weeds have grown up, not quite 

 to the surface, but waving in long branches 

 below. The reflection of the sky is on the 

 water at the angle at which I stand, so it takes 

 some time before I get accustomed to the light 

 and see into the water properly ; when I do, 

 the broad side of a big, light-coloured fish catches 

 my eye as he sinks out of sight in the weeds. 

 Is it my old friend ? And has the recognition 

 been mutual ? I wonder. Another mental 

 note is made for future guidance ; perhaps, 

 later in the season, there will be a sequel to this 



