a-fishing, I could seldom restrain my eagerness after I arrived in
sight of the brook or pond, and must needs run the rest of the way.
Then the delay in rigging my tackle was a trial my patience was never
quite equal to. After I had made a few casts, or had caught one fish, I
could pause and adjust my line properly. I found some remnant of the
old enthusiasm still in me when I sprang from the buckboard that
afternoon and saw the strange river rushing by. I would have given
something if my tackle had been rigged so that I could have tried on
the instant the temper of the trout that had just broken the surface
within easy reach of the shore. But I had anticipated this moment
coming along, and had surreptitiously undone my rod-case and got my
reel out of my bag, and was therefore a few moments ahead of my
companion in making the first cast. The trout rose readily, and almost
too soon we had more than enough for dinner, though no "rod-smashers "
had been seen or felt. Our experience the next morning, and during the
day and the next morning, in the lake, in the rapids, in the pools, was
about the same: there was a surfeit of trout eight or ten inches long,
though we rarely kept any under ten, but the big fish were lazy and
would not rise; they were in the deepest water and did not like to get
up.

The third day, in the afternoon, we had our first and only thorough
sensation in the shape of a big trout. It came none too soon. The
interest had begun to flag. But one big fish a week will do. It is a
pinnacle of delight in the angler's experience that he may well be
three days in working up to, and, once reached, it is three days down
to the old humdrum level again. At least it is with me. It was a dull,
rainy day; the fog rested low upon the mountains, and the time hung
heavily on our hands. About three o'clock the rain slackened and we
emerged from our den, Joe going to look after his horse, which had