My business was to find some passes in the mountains, and report
whether they were feasible for the passage of troops. I therefore
wandered up the various streams which led over the hills, and
by quietly fishing about I was able to make surveys of the whole
neighbourhood.
But on one occasion a countryman constituted himself my guide, and
insisted on sticking to me all the morning, showing me places where
fish could be caught. I was not, as a matter of fact, much of a
fisherman at that time, nor had I any desire to catch fish, and my
tackle was of a very ramshackle description for the purpose.
I flogged the water assiduously with an impossible fly, just to keep
the man's attention from my real work, in the hope that he would
eventually get tired of it and go away. But not he! He watched me with
the greatest interest for a long time, and eventually explained that
he did not know anything about fly fishing, but had a much better
system of getting the fish together before casting a worm or
slug-among-them.
His system he then proceeded to demonstrate, which was to spit into
the water. This certainly attracted a run of fish, and then he said
that if only he had a worm he could catch any number.
I eventually got rid of him by sending him to procure such, and while
he was away I made myself scarce and clambered over the ridge to
another valley.
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