Tragic Fishing Moments 



water. We finally decided to settle the dispute in the 

 most practical manner. We were to fish the stream 

 together, and the one catching the largest trout would 

 be the winner. His judgment in all matters pertaining 

 to fishing would then be considered supreme and his 

 method of catching the fish would be declared the best. 



I had so much faith in myself and my equipment 

 that I readily agreed to this test, although they had 

 three chances to my one in the argument. We fished 

 the stream all morning, but for some reason or other 

 I did not get a single strike. The other boys had about 

 a dozen trout among them. 



Their gibes and ridicule were by this time becoming 

 unbearable, and I uttered a silent prayer as I made a 

 neat cast and dropped the fly on the water. It was 

 immediately seized by a trout which exceeded by far 

 the size of any of those previously caught. I caught 

 a glimpse of him as he turned in the water and judged 

 him to be at least fifteen inches in length. By careful 

 playing I managed to bring him within a few feet of 

 the shore. I reached for the landing net which hung 

 on my belt, and as I did so I stepped on a loose stone. 

 Whish down I went with a splash, landing in about 

 a foot and a half of water. The fish, needless to say, 

 was lost, and that moment, as I sat there with the 

 water swirling about my neck and the sound of my 

 companions' laughter in my ears, was my most tragic 

 fishing moment. 



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