He had his fly-book still, and had come across an old reel which, fitted to a makeshift rod with common twine, had to do duty until he could afford a regular new turnout.

It was better than nothing, but the fish seemed somehow to get wind of the fact that they were not being treated with proper respect, and refused to have more to do than they could help with irregular- looking apparatus.
Rollitt put up with their unreasonableness for a long time that morning and afternoon.

With infinite patience he tried one fly after another, and either bank in turn.

He gave them a chance of being hooked under the falls, or right down on the flats by the lake.

But it was no go.
They wouldn't be tempted.
At last, as it was growing dusk, he became conscious that it had been raining fast for half an hour, and that he was wet through.