42 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
For experiment I tried a coachman in the middle 
of the day and early part of the evening on the 
Tamar. Both my companion and the keeper on 
that stretch of water thought I should do much 
better with one of the other flies ; but I stuck to 
the coachman, fished wet, chiefly in the stickles, 
and as it claimed about a dozen trout, each about 
a quarter of a pound, I was quite content. After- 
wards, I heard that later in the year the coachman 
had done well in the daytime. 
In addition to the rivers named, of which the 
Tamar and the Thrush seemed to me the best, 
there was the Inny, a bright little river a few 
miles beyond Launceston, where a day or days 
may be had at a small daily or season charge on 
association water. The old pony in the jingle 
asks kindly to be excused these long distances, 
and admittedly on a journey like this the car or 
motor cycle is invaluable. The Inny, except 
where it is open water, is a much-bushed stream. 
One young officer, just home from France, made 
casting under and around these trees a speciality. 
Full panniers were his reward. On the Tamar I 
met him again and he was at his old game. This 
time he had a colossal trout (for Devonshire), a 
good half-pound, perhaps more. “I lost four 
lengths of good gut before I got him,” he said, 
confidingly. ‘That was the secret of his success, 
his determination. In the place which he had 
been fishing it was no wonder that the branches 
had claimed four of his casts. But “stick it” 
was evidently his motto, for at last, with his fifth 
