228 THE WAY OF A TROUT WITH A FLY 



poise he was ready to feed, if not actually feeding, and I 

 despatched a small Red Sedge — no duns being yet up — 

 to light a foot above him. He flashed at it — but either he 

 missed or I did — and he went to cover. His doing so, 

 however, made it safe for me to move up two or three 

 steps to within casting distance of a delightfully snaggy 

 holt. On the left bank the crumpled roots of an over- 

 hanging alder turned the current outwards towards mid- 

 stream, where it poured over a brilliant bed of water crow's- 

 foot into a weed-pocket, and the rest of the stream was 

 driven by a weed-piled snag at right angles to the course 

 into the roots of a chestnut which overhung the right 

 bank with its feet in the water. In great good-humour 

 I waited for the manifestations which were due from so 

 promising a spot, and I had not long to wait. A few 

 minutes after eleven o'clock chimed a dimple occurred on 

 the edge of the crow's-foot, and it was repeated in quick 

 time. Clearly some upwinged fly was being taken, either 

 in the nymph or spinner stage, for no dun was on the 

 water. I took off my small Sedge and put up a chestnut- 

 coloured Seal's-fur-bodied Spinner, and the first time I 

 got it right to my friend he took it. He was only a half- 

 pounder, and I turned him in down-stream with care, for 

 while I had been fishing to him I had seen a suspicious 

 movement in the elbow of water just above the alder roots. 

 It was not an easy feat, with the bushes behind me on my 

 left hand and a drooping branch from the big tree over- 

 hanging, to get my fly to the spot — twice I was hung up 

 in the process, but each time the fly came away kindly — 

 yet presently it dropped lightly on the spot I aimed at. 

 There was no response till the fourth or fifth attempt. 

 Then, just as the chance seemed past, a grey-brown neb 

 with open pink mouth flashed at my fly, and I was not 

 too late to pull in the point. 



