But he must have detected the iron-barb of vice
beneath the mask of blitheful innocence, for, after a short
deliberation, the trout turned and disappeared under the bank. As he
slowly moved away, he seemed to be bigger than ever. I must catch that
fish! Surely he would bite at something. It was quite evident that his
mind was not wholly unsusceptible to emotions emanating from an
awakening appetite, and I believed that if he saw exactly what he
wanted, he would not neglect an opportunity of availing himself of it.
But what did he want? I must certainly find out. Drawing myself back
again, I took off the yellow fly, and put on another. This was a white
one, with black blotches, like a big miller moth which had fallen into
an ink-pot. It was surely a conspicuous creature, and as I crept forward
and sent it swooping over the stream, I could not see how any trout,
with a single insectivorous tooth in his head, could fail to rise to
such an occasion. But this trout did not rise. He would not even come
out from under his bank to look at the swiftly flitting creature. He
probably could see it well enough from where he was.
But I was not to be discouraged. I put on another fly; a green one with
a red tail. It did not look like any insect that I had ever seen, but I
thought that the trout might know more about such things than I.
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