I saw pain and reproach in Burns's glance at my fly while I made my first false cast. With one more heave, I dropped the Seaducer, as the fly was called, in front of the traveling stripers and watched stiff with awe as one peeled off, swam with purpose toward my outlandish offering and ate it. A quarter hour later I released a robust fish weighing between 15 and 20 pounds. Burns wouldn't quit casting his sand-eel look-alike long enough to help me weigh my trophy.
"I don't believe a fish took that fly," said Burns after the school had taken off with the tide and left him unrewarded.
That was about the last thing he said to me that day, and I haven't heard from him since.