GILBERT AND GOLDEN TROUT 187 



was no response. Then like a flash the river was 

 illuminated as suddenly as though an electric light 

 had been turned on. The sun, rising in the clear 

 blue sky, had gained the mountain top, then, as 

 though pleased with the efix)rt, the brilliant beam 

 of light came with almost frantic speed down the 

 steep slopes, over sombre forests and massive rocks, 

 till it reached the river, where it lightened the 

 deepest shadows, and transformed the gloomy 

 waters into a mass of sparkling iridescent colours. 

 It all happened so quickly that for the moment I 

 was more interested in watching the kaleidoscopic 

 transformation than in my fishing, and I carelessly 

 allowed the flies to drift into the eddy behind a 

 large boulder, where they sank several mches below 

 the surface. A splash brought me to my fishing 

 senses, and instinctively I raised the rod — too late, 

 however, for I could not get in the slack before 

 the fish had escaped. As quickly as possible 

 another cast dropped the flies in the same place, 

 and a big smrl showed that the fish was still eager. 

 With my heart beating, as I trust it always will 

 when I am casting for a fish that is in a rising 

 mood, I once more dropped the flies above the 

 stone and let them sink a little as they were 

 carried into the eddying pool. A splash, a bending 

 rod, a tightening line, and the reel sang merrily 

 as the fish bolted for the shelter of a large over- 

 hanging rock. Cautiously I checked the out- 

 running line. The fish objected to this curbing 

 and showed his resentment by leaping frantically 

 from the water, filling the air with glistening drops 

 and breaking the smooth surface of the deep green 



