Out of the Chalk. yy 



enemy they try a second and third ascent into the air. 

 Lucky indeed are you if by a timely lowering of the point 

 of your rod, and a masterly coolness of mind, you do not in 

 these trying moments part company with your captive. 



But there are other dangers ahead. The line tightens, 

 yet the well-tempered gut has not parted, and the hook, 

 Liliputian though it be, has not been torn from its hold. 

 That is encouraging : you think your friend is as good as 

 netted when he goes off with a steady strain, and you allow 

 the top of your supple rod to do all the work. The weed 

 forest, however, is a refuge for the hunted, and towards it 

 the fish, butt him as you may, intends to go. If you turn 

 him and deal firmly in your resolve not to permit him to 

 take cover, the fish is yours, but the chances are five 

 hundred to one in his favour should he push so much as 

 his gills into the tangled growth. Your line comes loosely 

 back, and you are left lamenting. 



And it is astonishing how few rises one obtains compared 

 with the number of fish to be perceived. It is probable 

 that there is a vast quantity of natural feed in the river. 

 Minnows are rare habitants, and in many portions they are 

 not found at all ; but there is a great wealth of insect life. 

 At odd times — and they are the angler's golden hours, the 

 fleeting opportunities when he receives compensation for a 

 hundred blank days — the fisherman has nothing to do but 

 to arise and slay. In dull, warm weather, this may occur in 

 the fore or afternoon, but generally it is found to be at and 

 after dusk. Then a single fly carefully dropped above the 

 fish will be certain to seal his fate if the caster have the skill 

 to retain the prize which fate has given him. 



The fun is very fast and furious while it lasts, and you 

 have no time to pay attention to any other object. Your 

 friend, wandering up and down in that restless manner with 



