One particular run of water pleased me particularly. The stream rushed
through an opening between some rocks, and then gradually opened over
a gravelly bed in a long, rippling current. The "tail of the run," as
they call it, is the place to expect fish, so I fished quickly over
the rapid part of the run, and went more gingerly when I got nearer to
the "tail," making my fly visit every inch of the water, and I was
quickly rewarded.
A sudden ting like an electric shock on my rod, and a heavy rushing
and jerking hither and thither, till gradually the fish exhausted
himself, and I was able to hold him and gradually tow him up on the
shelving beach. Out of that one pool we got no fewer than fourteen
trout that day! Of course, we only kept those we wanted for food, and
slid the others back into the water, alarmed, but not hurt.
* * * * *
STALKING.
After a few miles the gorge got deeper and deeper and more and more
narrow, until it ran between high cliffs which could not be climbed,
and the stream became a torrent running between the high rocks, so
that progress was impossible along the bottom.
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