THE LIGHT 89 



any time of day, to stalk the wild fowl 

 in a slowly-moving boat with a screen 

 of bushes in the bow ; but the most 

 cunning attempt to get at them in a 

 candid way would be a failure. Wher- 

 ever they may be resting, their position is 

 always such that they are forewarned of 

 your approach from the front, or from the 

 rear, or on either flank. 



The trout are in quite different case. 

 They seem not to hear. At any rate, if 

 they do hear, they are never, so far as one 

 can judge, disturbed by noise. They 

 show no sign of alarm when a railway 

 train rushes over a bridge above the 

 stream in which they are lying, or rising ; 

 often they are equally unconcerned amid 

 the loudest peals of thunder. They 

 must, it is true, have the sense of smell. 

 Only on that assumption is it possible to 

 account for their taking a worm, or a 

 gentle, or a piece of roe, or the grub of a 

 wasp, or that of a stone-fly, in flood water 

 too thick to be seen through ; but their 

 sense of smell seems to be only a guidance 



