246 THE WAY OF A TROUT WITH A FLY 



THE FOLLOWING DAY. 



The hour at which the fast afternoon train lands one in 

 the Cathedral City is not a satisfactory one, for one reaches 

 the water to find the two slackest hours of the chalk-stream 

 angler's day in progress. In the days before the Summer 

 Time Act I should have had tea and gone out for the evening, 

 relying on a good supper when I came in. Now I go out for 

 an hour's look round, in which I do not count on doing 

 much — and am seldom disappointed — and come back for 

 a solid meal before starting out for the evening rise. 

 July 28 proved no exception. I found some four trout 

 moving, raised two of them, and failed to hook either, and 

 put down all four. One of them, however, had an effect on 

 the evening's movements, for he was that aggravating fish 

 which rises — rose, rather — a short cast above the dead 

 hedge on the left bank. I was specially annoyed at missing 

 him, for I had often fished to him and had never got a rise 

 out of him, and I never knew anyone who claimed to have 

 done so. The other fish was near the surface on a bank of 

 weed, just above a point where a spike of celery emerging 

 from the surface divided the current. He was only 

 accessible from the right bank, so when I came out for the 

 evening I strolled up to the appropriate distance below him 

 and knotted on a wet Greenwell double on No. 00 hooks 

 tied on gut, and waited to make sure of my fish before 

 casting. As I did so I became aware of a movement of 

 a fishy character — it was not a rise, nor was it tailing — 

 under my own bank, in some shallow water, at a point 

 where the stream bent rather sharply from south-east to 

 south. The light prevented me from seeing if a fish 

 were there, but I sent my Greenwell double to explore. 

 The first cast was short, but the second was there or there- 

 abouts. There was a little hump under water, which only 



