EPISODICAL 225 



another, I looked to see where it could be falling. I did 

 not see another falling, but presently I heard the sound 

 again, and, after an interval, again; but still no splash. 

 A little intrigued, I watched, and again I heard the sound, 

 but saw nothing to suggest a cause. I seemed, however, 

 to place it near the lower end of the arch, and there, caught 

 against the pier on the far side, I saw a long spear of giant 

 rush, and when the dripping sound recurred I saw the 

 rush give a little jump, as if rebounding after the drop of 

 water struck it. Still not satisfied, I kept my eye on the 

 reed, and presently became aware of a tiny pale dun 

 being swung along the current, close to the arch, hugging 

 the brickwork, then alongside the reed, and — then the 

 reed bobbed again and the dripping sound recurred. Just 

 long enough I waited to see the incident recur. Then, 

 knotting on a pale pattern of Tup's Indispensable on a 

 No. 00 hook, I began to let out line. Presently I thought 

 I had enough to cover the eighteen or twenty yards of 

 water between me and the farther pier of the bridge, and 

 I let my Indispensable down on the water. It was, of 

 course, a sheer fluke, and I daresay I should not have 

 done the same thing again in a hundred, perhaps not in 

 a thousand, casts, but the fly lit within an inch of the reed 

 about two-thirds of the way up it. The current took it 

 swiftly down — again there was that dripping sound, again 

 the bobbing reed — and in a moment a beautiful yellow 

 trout leapt a yard into the air and fell back with a re- 

 sounding smack. He did not, however, shake out the hook, 

 and presently I laid him, decently wrapped in a napkin, 

 along with his predecessors of the morning. He was only 

 one pound five ounces, but somehow his capture gave me 

 extraordinary satisfaction. 



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