THE MAYFLIES 101 



Some half-hour later, blinking through 

 the sunlight, I marked the coming of 

 Jean Pierre. Apparently he was heading 

 a triumphal procession. My landing-net 

 was held on high, and behind him marched 

 Mariic and Suzanne, carrying various 

 cardboard boxes and an improvised butter- 

 fly-net. Jean Pierre was hot, damp, and 

 smiling. His pockets bulged, and as we 

 watched, from out his person a few May- 

 flies escaped to hover in halo round his 

 head. Then he explained. It had taken 

 some time to go to the farm and procure 

 boxes and an extra net, even longer to 

 catch a sufficient quantity of bait. True, 

 the big fish were not moving, there was 

 no hatch of fly ; why, then we must create 

 a hatch of fly, after that our fish would 

 rise and feed on them. 



My old friend is wise in the ways of all 

 creatures which move beneath the waters, 

 and yet this theory of his seemed over- 

 sanguine. I confess I was somewhat 

 sceptical as I followed him up to the head 

 of that long, deep reach to sit with Mariic 

 and Suzanne while he commenced opera- 

 tions. 



