62 TROUT FISHmO 



just above the cascade : ice-covered from 

 bank to bank. However, it was still 

 awake underneath ; and I remembered 

 that a mile farther up there was a long 

 stretch of it nearly flat ; the sun, at noon- 

 tide now, would be striking full upon it 

 there ; perhaps it would be open. 



It was partly so. On all the long 

 stretch there was no place at which the 

 stream was free from bank to bank. 

 Everywhere, from the sides, the shapeless 

 ice protruded ; the blue water in the 

 middle was tearing past as if it were a 

 living thing in fear of enemies on both 

 flanks ; but here and there the stream 

 seemed to be holding its own in fighting 

 the frost, and had actually a few yards in 

 which to breathe. 



I cast the flies into one of those open 

 spaces ; and cast again, again, and again. 

 What was the matter ? Had I forgotten 

 how to throw a fly ? The line was falling 

 heavily, not with a splash exactly, but 

 with an ungainly mark of its whole 

 length on the swift water, notably the 



