ON THE MOOI OF NATAL 245 
Above the Falls there are no scalies, and there 
the trout reigns supreme. The scaly of Natal 
reminds me of the dace of England. The trout 
above the Falls, where there are no scalies, have 
smaller, more refined heads than the trout below. 
Really, when you come to look at the tiny 
hook concealed by the dainty dressing called a 
fly, and when you examine the fine cast of gut, 
what a lot of luck there seems about the business, 
Sometimes the hook holds ; sometimes the trout 
in his dash at the fly misses the business part. 
One morning on the Mooi I missed four trout, 
straight off. The next rise resulted in the trout 
being hooked so firmly that he would have stayed 
on until Doomsday. No doubt the luckiest man 
is he who always keeps his tackle in order. But 
even with sound tackle there are sorrows as well 
as joys in the game. One afternoon I played a 
trout for fifteen minutes, timed faithfully by a 
friend on the bank, and lost the fish, On the 
cast were two flies, to the other of which a scaly 
had attached himself. It was pull devil, pull 
baker. Only the scaly was landed! Another 
time, after the usual hard play, what appeared to 
be a pound and a half trout was being coaxed to 
the landing net, when the hook gave. 
But on two occasions my luck was beyond 
dispute. One grey morning, with a clouded sky 
through which no sun penetrated, the fly was 
smartly seized on a rapid. Line was freely taken, 
and five minutes fairly flew by, without even a 
glimpse of the fish to show what-like he was. 
