Another classic from the master of adventure novels himself.
ected by fly-fishermen and tourists. Still, he has made no acquaintance with the resident gentry. He might, if wishing it; which he does not, his purpose upon the Wye not being to seek society, but salmon, or rather the sport of taking it. An ardent disciple of the ancient Izaak, he cares for nought else--at least, in the district where he is for the present sojourning.
Such is his mental condition, up to a certain morning; when a change comes over it, sudden as the spring of a salmon at the gaudiest or most tempting of his flies--this brought about by a face, of which he has caught sight by merest accident, and while following his favourite occupation. Thus it has chanced:--
Below the town where he is staying, some four or five miles by the course of the stream, he has discovered one of those places called "catches," where the king of river fish delights to leap at flies, whether natural or artificial--a sport it has oft reason to rue. Several times so, at the end of Captain Ryecroft's line and