246 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
Then, with a gradually lessening line, a fine trout 
came in sight, and at last, completely exhausted, 
he was received into the landing net. His weight 
proved to be 2 Ibs. On the other great occasion, 
the capture went a single ounce better. This 
was at the magic hour of sundown, just prior to 
packing up on the Friday for the Rand. Ambi- 
tion suggested an effort to land a good-sized 
trout to take back to Johannesburg for evidence, 
as the lawyers say. A little earlier, a big one had 
been lost. He had broken the cast just above 
the tail fly, on which he had been hooked, leaving 
an unwanted scaly on the second fly, and the torn 
mouth of the scaly showed what a tragedy tandem 
driving had been to him. So in order to try and 
even things, I carried on with one fly only, the 
good old March brown. Very soon a good trout 
was pricked, but was no sooner on than off. 
Then, a few casts later, the hook went into 
another. Demanding much line, away he sped 
into the pool, for he had seized the fly at the tail 
of the rapid, always a desirable spot to try with 
wet fly. It had been an unlucky pool, for I had 
lost several hard-pulling trout there, but this time 
confidence came with the knowledge that only 
one fly was on, and that therefore no scaly could 
be a spoil-sport. All the confidence was wanted 
when he began to leap out of the water—what must 
these trout be like in Leap Year? Lowering the 
rod was the instant treatment. At last he rolled 
over on his back, and was landed, a perfect trout. 
No sooner was he in the landing net than the 
