THE varnished fly-rod hissed through the air as Vern sent his first cast of the morning rolling out across the pool, dropping a large white fly near the fringe of bushes overhanging the far shore. Vern always fished a white pattern when he was after the Miller...
Sketch: Vol. 16
, Article 2.
Available at: http://lib.dr.iastate.edu/sketch/vol16/iss3/2