d the
tail of a shallow, foamy rapid, he had had experience of its sharp
allurements. The little moth he ignored, but he kept an eye on the red
hackle as it trailed and danced hither and thither across the pool.
Once, near the other side, he saw a misguided fingerling dart from
under a stone in the shallow water and seize the gay morsel. The
fingerling rose, with a jerk, from the water, and was no more seen. It
vanished into the unknown air; and the master of the pool quailed as
he marked its fate. After this, the pair of dark, pillar-like objects
moved away to the shore, no longer careful, but making a huge,
splashing noise. No more strange flies appeared; and the gold light of
full day stole down to the depths of the pool. Soon, flies which the
master well knew, with no fine threads attached to them, began to
speck the surface over him, and he fed, in his lazy way, without
misgiving.

The big trout had good reason for his dread of the angler's lure. His
experience with the red hackle had given him the wisdom which had
enabled him to live through all the perils of a well-known
trout-stream and grow to his present fame and stature. Behind that red
hackle which hooked him in his youth had been a good rod, a crafty
head, and a skilful wrist. His hour had sounded then and there, but
for a fortunate flaw in the tackle. The leader had parted just at the
drop, and the terrified trout (he had taken the tail fly) had darted
away frantically through the rapids with three feet of fine gut
trailing from his jaw. For several weeks he trailed that hampering
thread, and carried that red hackle in the cartilage of his upper jaw;
and he had time to get very familiar with them. He grew thin and
slab-sided under the fret of it before he succeeded, by much nosing in
gravel and sand, in wearing away the cartilage and rubbing his jaw
clear of the encumbrance. From that day forward he had scrutinized all
unfamiliar baits or lures to see if they carried any threadlike
attachment.

When any individual of the wild kindreds, furred, feathered, or
finned, achieves the distinction of baffling man's efforts to undo
him, his doom may be considered sealed. There is no beast, bird, or
fish so crafty or so powerful but some one man can worst him, and will
take the trouble to do it if the game seems to be worth while. Some
lure would doubtless have been found, some scheme devised for the
hiding of the line, whereby the big trout's cunning would have