40 THE SPORTING FISH 



made acquaintance with a gentleman well known 

 amongst the Cotton Lords of Lancashire, who, with 

 his daughter, spent most of their days, like our- 

 selves, in fly-fishing for White Trout on the loch. 

 One evening at dinner we made a match. We 

 wagered sundry bottles of champagne that as the 

 result of the next day's foray amongst the Trout 

 our " basket " would outweigh theirs. Accordingly, 

 next morning both parties started betimes for the 

 lake ; and as the boats kept pretty well within 

 hail of each other, we could guess by the use of 

 our eyes and ears that we were well on the win- 

 ning side, w'hen, just as we were returning. Miss 



G hooked, and, after some pretty play with 



her light Trout-rod, landed, a Grilse of at least 

 five or six pounds weight ! 



The Trout in the part of the loch we had been 

 fishing ran comparatively small, and despite our 

 superiority in numbers it was evident that this 

 " happenin' baste," as our boatman called it, would 

 turn the day against us. 



What was to be done ? For two experienced 

 fly-fishers, who plumed themselves not a little on 

 their " talent," to be beaten in a walk by a ' chit 

 of a schoolgirl ' and an old gentleman of seventy 

 was ignominy not to be endured. . . . Necessity 

 is the mother of invention. As we were landing 

 a bright idea suddenly struck me — I recollected 

 the story of the "Jumping Frog." . . . Making 

 some excuse to let our antagonists get ahead a 



