ns that you can never
count with certainty on the result. One might suppose that our guide had
everything in his favor. Up to the very moment of his wager he had been
taking trout about as rapidly as he could handle them, and from water
that had been fished more or less all the afternoon. He knew the
particular fly that had been most attractive on this particular day and
he had selected a place hitherto unfished--just the sort of a place
where small trout seemed likely to abound. With his skill as an angler
it would not have surprised me if he had taken his five trout and had
more than half the time to spare.

I think he expected to do that himself. I think he did, for he went at
it with that smiling _sang froid_ with which one does a sleight of hand
trick after long practice. He did not show any appearance of haste in
making his first cast, but let the flies go gently out over a little
eddying pool and lightly skim the surface of the water, as if he were
merely amusing himself by tantalizing those eager little trout. Yet for
some reason nothing happened. Perhaps the little trout were attending a
party in the next pool. There came no lively snap at those twitching
flies--there was not even a silver break on the surface of the water.

I thought our guide's smile faded the least trifle, and that he let the
flies go a bit quicker next time. Then when nothing, absolutely nothing,
happened again, his look became one of injured surprise. He abandoned
that pool and stepping a rock or two downstream, sent the flies with a
sharp little flirt into the next--once--twice--it was strange--it was
unaccountable, but nothing--not a single thing happened again. It was
the same with the next pool, and the next.

There were no special marks of self-confidence, or anything that even
resembled deliberation, after this. It was business, strictly business,
with the sole idea of taking five fish out of that run, or getting down
to a place where five fish could be had. It was a pretty desperate
situation, for it was a steep run and there was no going back. To
attempt that would be to waste too much precious time. The thing to do
was to fish it straight through, with no unnecessary delay. There was no
doubt but that this was our guide's programme. The way he deported
himself showed that. Perhaps he was not really in a hurry--I want to be
just--but he acted as if he was. I have never seen a straddle-bug, but
if I ever meet one I shall recognize