he's a whale. 69 



air, then, with just the most delicate twist of his wrist, 

 laid the flies on the farther side of the basin, and drew 

 them over the glassy water. A rise, a sharp strike, and 

 — it will happen to the best of anglers, sometimes — a 

 small chub had risen to the fly, and the short sharp 

 stroke lifted him like a shot into the air. He went over 

 the Doctor's head, and twenty feet behind him into a 

 low pine-bush, where the leader was effectually entan- 

 gled. So the Doctor crawled up the slope, disengaged 

 his leader, returned to the old spot, and three times sent 

 his flies by that graceful cast over the basin. Then, in- 

 stead of lifting the line, he threw a wave into it from the 

 end of the slender rod, and as the wave ran along it lift- 

 ed the flies and laid them clown again out of his sight, 

 but under the very edge of the bank at the side of the 

 brook-fall. He did not, but we from the top of the slop- 

 ing ground did, see the magnificent rise with which the 

 tail fly was seized; but he felt it, and was on his feet in 

 an instant. Once around the basin went the sharp cut 

 of the line through the water, and then like lightning the 

 fish rushed out over the gravel into the lake. There the 

 Doctor saw him, as we did not. " He's a whale," I 

 heard him mutter, as he pressed his finger on the line 

 that was paying out with the reel music, and all the time 

 he was advancing step by step toward the lake-shore, but 

 never losing the bend of his rod. 



The length of time required to kill a trout on a fly-rod 

 depends on the size and strength of the fish, and on the 

 weight of the rod. The Doctor was handling a seven-ounce 

 rod, and the fish was strong. He accepted a cigar which 

 I offered him, lit it, and was patient. He had checked 

 the fish with a hundred feet of line out; and now the 

 plucky animal was swaying back and forth in arcs of a 



