FOUR YEARS LATER 255 
of poisoning could be traced, and the suggestion 
was made that the severe frost was responsible for 
the mortality. The catastrophe, however, did not 
appreciably lessen the number of scalies; on the 
contrary, they seemed to be more numerous than 
four years earlier. “Only a scaly!” is your 
deprecatory exclamation when you find you have 
one on, and are seeking higher game in the shape 
of trout. Yet, after this visit, the scaly has com- 
pelled respect if only for the plucky fight he 
invariably puts up when hooked on the fly. This 
fish fights stoutly to a finish. The difference 
between his rise and that of a trout is worth 
noting. The trout’s rise is all business, a simple 
gulping of the fly, accompanied often by a distinct 
“chop” in the water, followed instantly by a 
smart run and sometimes by a screaming of the 
reel, owing to the demand for line. When the 
scaly rises, there is an innocent dimpling of the 
water, much as if the fly is being sucked-in. It is 
not unlike the rise of the grayling. A little later, 
though, fury is rampant. 
A scaly’s rise and subsequent behaviour 
remind me of the police constable’s prisoner 
who says, “I'll go quietly,” and then the next 
moment becomes violent, showing himself “ ob- 
streperous,” to quote the police court term. Not 
only does the scaly play well, but also, properly 
prepared, he eats well. Of course the bones are 
a nuisance, but, nicely baked, then vinegared, 
then fried, and garnished with salt and pepper 
superadded, the scaly is a palatable dish ; though 
