“They’re quick enough; don’t worry about that,” smiled Fred.
“But why don’t you let the hook sink a little below the surface?”
“Did you ever see a moth or a bug of some sort light on the water?” Fred inquired.
“Yes. Lots of times.”
“Did you ever see one sink?”
“No, I don’t believe I ever did,” George admitted slowly.
“That’s just it,” exclaimed Fred triumphantly. “If a real insect doesn’t do it, why should an artificial one? The idea is to make the fly appear just as much alive as possible.”
“I haven’t seen you catch anything yet,” remarked George.
Hardly had he spoken, however, when Fred had a strike. His fly had settled like thistledown on the surface of the pool after an almost perfect cast, when there was a rush and the line was drawn swiftly across the pool. The light rod bent almost double and Fred’s three companions jumped to their feet excitedly.
“Yea, Fred!” shouted John. “You’ve hooked a big one. Stick to him.”