With shaking hands another worm was even more carefully attached to the hook. With great expectations, it was cast into the flow. The bobber then floated along placidly for a few feet when suddenly it was yanked completely under water. I struck mightily with the rod. Aha, this time a hooked fish and bobber came sailing back toward me. Both landed on the bank at my feet. I dropped the rod and pounced on the fish. It had to be a trout. No other fish could be this beautiful. Its fins slashed with red, white belly and spotted sides gleamed in the light of the sun. This was a prize more gorgeous than a young boy could ever have imagined. I not only had the most exciting trout fishing story to tell but also the trout to prove it. Now, as I recall this story, which happened 72 years ago, what was more solidly hooked—the fish or the fisherman?