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The
barman
rowed
back
.
We
trolled
up
the
lake
beyond
Stresa
and
then
down
not
far
from
shore
.
I
held
the
taut
line
and
felt
the
faint
pulsing
of
the
spinner
revolving
while
I
looked
at
the
dark
November
water
of
the
lake
and
the
deserted
shore
.
The
barman
rowed
with
long
strokes
and
on
the
forward
thrust
of
the
boat
the
line
throbbed
.
Once
I
had
a
strike
:
the
line
hardened
suddenly
and
jerked
back
.
I
pulled
and
felt
the
live
weight
of
the
trout
and
then
the
line
throbbed
again
.
I
had
missed
him
.
"
Did
he
feel
big
?
"
"
Pretty
big
.
"
"
Once
when
I
was
out
trolling
alone
I
had
the
line
in
my
teeth
and
one
struck
and
nearly
took
my
mouth
out
.
"
"
The
best
way
is
to
have
it
over
your
leg
,
"
I
said
.
"
Then
you
feel
it
and
don
’
t
lose
your
teeth
.
"
I
put
my
hand
in
the
water
.
It
was
very
cold
.
We
were
almost
opposite
the
hotel
now
.
"
I
have
to
go
in
,
"
the
barman
said
,
"
to
be
there
for
eleven
o
’
clock
.
L
’
heure
du
cocktail
.
"
"
All
right
.
"
I
pulled
in
the
line
and
wrapped
it
on
a
stick
notched
at
each
end
.
The
barman
put
the
boat
in
a
little
slip
in
the
stone
wall
and
locked
it
with
a
chain
and
padlock
.
"
Any
time
you
want
it
,
"
he
said
,
"
I
’
ll
give
you
the
key
.
"
