e from another.

R. O.: Ay, and there's the damping box for the gut points, and the pin
to clear the eyeholes of the hooks, and the linen cloth to wrap the
trout in, and the clearing-ring, and the knee-pads, and whole magazines
of flies.

The PARSON: Good! I know Georgy has at least twenty patterns, and by
the time he has found out which is the killer the rise is over.

SUFFIELD: Hello! See that?

ALL: What? Where?

SUFFIELD: I beg your pardon: it was only a swallow, or a rat.

R. O.: No; Harvey is signalling up at the bridge. Let us be moving.
The fly is coming. Tight lines to you all. [Piscatorum Personae
collect their rods, pull up their waders, and stroll away in various
directions.]

GEORGY (an hour later, seated amongst the sedges by a broad part of the
river, mopping his forehead, rod laid aside on the grass behind: to him
approaches the Parson from the shallow above): That was a warm bout
while it lasted, parson. How did you get on?

PARSON: Get on? Not at all. For a time the fish rose in all
directions, but they did not seem to take the natural even. Flopped at
'em and let 'em pass on.

GEORGY: I didn't like to say it before the R. O., but I'm sure we begin
this mayfly fishing too soon. There ought not to be a rod out till the
fly has been on at least a couple of days, and not a line should be
cast till the fish are taking them freely.

PARSON: What have you done?

GEORGY (motioning to his creel, and creeping softly up the bank, with
rod lowered): Only a couple, and handsome fellows, too. Why one of
them is full to the muzzle with drakes; there's one crawling from
between its jaws at this moment.

PARSON: Heigho! he's into another.

GEORGY (having stalked his fish and hooked him, retires from the bank
and brings a two-pounder down to the net, which the parson handles):
Well, I've got my brace and half, anyhow.

PARSON (laughing): To tell you the truth, I came down to beg a touch of
the paraffin this time.

GEORGY: I thought so. Here you are. (Parson returns to his wooden
bridge.) They laugh at my fads, but somehow take toll of 'em.
(General approaches from below.) Any luck, General?

GENERAL (disgusted): Yes, infernal bad luck! Two fish broke away one
after another. They won't fasten a bit. Never saw anything like it.
But I want you to give me one of those gut points out of your damping
box. I must get one of those boxes for myself.

GEORGY (supplying the requisitioned