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Side 97 av 112
It was a moment for serious thought. What was best to be done with
that fish? Leave him to settle down for the night and come back
after him another day? Or try another cast for him at once? A fish
on Saturday evening is worth two on Monday morning. I changed the
Queen of the Water for a Royal Coachman tied on a number fourteen
hook,--white wings, peacock body with a belt of crimson silk,--and
sent it out again, a foot farther up the stream and a shade closer
to the weeds. As it settled on the water, there was a flash of gold
from the shadow beneath the logs, and a quick turn of the wrist made
the tiny hook fast in the fish. He fought wildly to get back to the
shelter of his logs, but the four ounce rod had spring enough in it
to hold him firmly away from that dangerous retreat. Then he
splurged up and down the open water, and made fierce dashes among
the grassy shallows, and seemed about to escape a dozen times. But
at last his force was played out; he came slowly towards the boat,
turning on his side, and I netted him in my hat.
"Bully for us;" said the boy, "we got him! What a dandy!"
It was indeed one of the handsomest fish that I have ever taken on
the South Side,--just short of two pounds and a quarter,--small
head, broad tail, and well-rounded sides coloured with orange and
blue and gold and red. A pair of the same kind, one weighing two
pounds and the other a pound and three quarters, were taken by
careful fishing down the lower end of the pool, and then we rowed
home through the dusk, pleasantly convinced that there is no virtue
more certainly rewarded than the patience of anglers, and entirely
willing to put up with a cold supper and a mild reproof for the sake
of sport.
Of course we could not resist the temptation to show those fish to
the neighbours. But, equally of course, we evaded the request to
give precise information as to the precise place where they were
caught. Indeed, I fear that there must have been something confused
in our description of where we had been on that afternoon. Our
carefully selected language may have been open to misunderstanding.
At all events, the next day, which was the Sabbath, there was a row
of eager but unprincipled anglers sitting on a bridge OVER ANOTHER
STREAM, and fishing for trout with worms and large expectations, but
without visible results.
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