A MAY-FLY DAY 109 



a fly again ; a little puff of wind helps me ; I 

 can reach him now, and I get my fly over him 

 several times. He will have none of it, though 

 he turns up to it twice, and once follows it for 

 two yards down-stream, examining it with 

 interest till it drags, pulled by the stream 

 sweeping down my line, which floats on its 

 surface. (I have not dared to lift the fly while 

 he watched it, and if I wanted to I could not, 

 as boughs of the tree are just above my head.) 

 Then an awful moment of suspense. I hear 

 someone coming down my bank, and that some- 

 one, if seen by the fish, will put him down for 

 good. By great good fortune it is no stranger, 

 but Herself, come out to find out at what time 

 I am likely to be home for supper ; and Herself, 

 knowing the ways of trout, drops upon her 

 knees in the muddy path between the dock- 

 leaves as she catches a glimpse of my hat showing 

 above the bank. And then comes great luck. 

 He is taking May-fly now, and taking them 

 confidently, so a May-fly he shall have, in its 

 " spent-gnat " form, which is generally, in my 

 experience, the most attractive. The usual 

 horrid flap at the back end of the cast, and the 

 fly falls about two feet short. Four times I 

 fail to reach him, and then he moves up about 

 a foot. One more try, and this time a gentle 



