“Never mind. Come and see this—oh, come!”
Of course I come, and of course I am glad I came, and of course soon I am obliged to call Jonathan to see some I have found—“Jonathan, it is truly the loveliest yet! It’s the way it grows—with the moss and all—please come!” And of course he comes.
We had been on the hillside a long half-hour, much nearer an hour, when Jonathan began to grow restive. “Don’t you think you have enough?” he suggested several times. Finally, he spoke plainly of the trout.
“Oh, yes, of course,” I said, “you go down and I’ll follow just as soon as I’ve gone along that upper path.”
Not at all. That was not what was wanted. So I turned and we went down the hill, back to the bend, whose seductions I had been so puzzlingly able to resist. I am sure Jonathan has never yet quite understood how I could [pg 133] leave that bit of water at my left hand and turn away to the right.
“Now—sneak!”
We sneaked, and I sank down just back of the edge of the bank. Jonathan crouched some feet behind, coaching me:—“Now—draw out a little more line—not too much—there—and have some slack in your hand. Now, up-stream fifteen feet—allow for the wind—wait till that gust passes—now! Good! First-rate! Now let her drift—there—what did I tell you? Give him line! Give him line! Now, feel of him—careful! You’ll know when to strike … there!… Oh! too bad!”
For as I struck, my line held fast.
“Snagged, by gummy! Can’t you pull clear?”
“Not without stirring up the whole pool. You’ll have to do the fishing, after all.”