72 GOLDEN DAYS 



weather, when the water is at its lowest 

 and crystal clear. It is a joy to watch 

 our old friend stalking cautiously up- 

 stream, working his way like an otter, his 

 great gaunt figure always under cover of 

 a boulder or some patch of brushwood. 

 Then that delightful underhand cast of 

 his, which appears ever to be flicking the 

 bait into a clump of thistles or a rose- 

 bush on the opposite bank, but always 

 sets it lightly just where it should, to slip 

 into the current and work naturally with 

 no drag. And here, be it noted, there is 

 never a moment of slack line. The line 

 coils itself automatically on skilled fingers, 

 so if a trout should follow down and grab 

 the worm at Jean Pierre's feet the strike 

 comes instantly. He gets short shrift, this 

 trout, no leisure to explore the overhang- 

 ing banks for roots or other entanglements. 

 Jean Pierre does not believe in tender 

 tactics. I have never seen him lose a fish 

 for want of dexterity or reasonable care, 

 yet were he a " dry-fly man " he would 

 break the heart of more than one of our 

 ultra-delicate rods within a season. Yet is 

 not the quality of decided force necessary 



