250 THE WAY OF A TROUT WITH A FLY 



hand. I looked up the next reach, and waited, for it is 

 usually a productive one. Presently a fish made a ring 

 and then another near the bottom of the stretch, but he 

 would not stand to be cast to with the moon behind me, and 

 he stopped at the first cast. Then a little later a second 

 trout behaved in the same way, and I made up my mind 

 to get round the next bend, where the moon would throw 

 the shadow on my rod across-stream instead of up, and 

 to finish out my evening there. But as I made my way 

 up I saw a fish out in the stream dropping foot by foot 

 and feeding freely. I dropped as low as I could and cast 

 to him. It had to be a very short line, as he was almost 

 on me; but he took the Spinner at the very first offer, and 

 after violent splashing play on the surface was netted out 

 some forty or fifty yards down-stream — one pound thirteen 

 ounces. 



It may seem strange to change one's fly immediately 

 after killing a fish with it, but it was growing dusk, and my 

 sight is not very good, and I wanted to tie on my Orange 

 Quill for the end of the rise before it grew too dark. So I 

 did so, and made my way round the bend to the very best 

 holding stretch in the fishery. 



At the lower end of that stretch the current sets under the 

 far bank, so I did not waste much time on that part, but 

 settled myself to wait at the point where the set of the cur- 

 rent was under my own bank and the light right upstream, 

 so that I could see every movement on my own side. 

 I was bitterly disappointed, however, to see no sign of a rise. 

 It was 9.30, and it might be that all was over.- Presently 

 a big rise under the right bank showed the distinctive 

 features of a fish taking blue-winged olive. But I was 

 not casting to him, for another rod was on that bank. 

 Then there was another rise a little farther up — again 

 under the far bank — and still none under mine. I looked 



