“I don’t know anything about it, either,” said George, “but I certainly expect to catch something just the same.”
“Maybe you’ll have beginner’s luck,” said Grant.
“I don’t care what it is,” laughed George. “I want some fish, though.”
“Well, I’m ready,” said Fred, rising to his feet. “Where are we going?”
“Suppose two of us go upstream and two down,” suggested Grant.
“All right,” exclaimed Fred. “You and I will go up and the others the other way. We’ll meet back here in time for supper.”
“At the latest,” added John.
Fred stepped to the shore and deftly cast his fly out on the waters. Gradually lengthening the amount of line he had out, he kept casting and then drawing the rod back over his head so that the line stretched far behind him. Then, with a short snap of his wrist he would send the fly floating out over the pool again. As it came to rest lightly on the surface of the water he jerked it along for a few feet in imitation of the struggles of a live insect and then he would repeat the performance all over again.
His three friends watched him with absorbing interest.
“That’s a simple performance,” exclaimed George at length. “Why don’t you leave the fly in the water for a second or two and give the fish half a chance to swallow it? It would have to be an awfully quick trout to take your hook.”