248 THE TROUT ARE RISING 
overlooking the river from a height, the Mooi 
shaped itself like a horseshoe: and there was 
constant music from its rapids. When we reached 
our destination at midday, luncheon was sug- 
gested, but this seemed an encroachment on 
valuable time with such trout water before us. 
The younger farmer decided to have two or three 
casts, just to soak his gut, and almost immediately 
a bright-hued trout was leaping in the water. The 
angler kept a tight line on him, and a beautiful 
fish bordering on two pounds was presently landed. 
Luncheon, always good by the riverside, was soon 
dispatched, and the attractive fishing was con- 
tinued. That day the host got six trout weighing 
eight pounds, the younger farmer seven weighing 
ten and three-quarter pounds, while I came last 
with three of three and a half pounds. My third 
trout, too, was caught in the last few minutes. 
The rise had almost ceased, and then “ Cotswold 
Isys’s” words about the coachman fly came to 
mind, viz. :— 
“ But if vainly for trout you strive, 
At gloaming never despair, 
Call on your coachman to give them a drive, 
And he will not want a fare,” 
Accordingly, a coachman was substituted as 
leader fly, and a fare was soon forthcoming, this 
trout being one pound and a half. The host 
called it a bad day. A good day there must be 
worth having! A ride back across country brought 
us to the farmstead where a Colonial welcome, 
typical of the whole visit, awaited us; and you 
