THE DAY'S WORK 223 



after their long confinement to the kennels. The cobble 

 spins over the rocking waves almost too rapidly for the 

 chances of sport, as the brown net runs swiftly out from 

 the stern and the black corks rise bobbing merrily on 

 the track. And when they have put the girdle round 

 the bay, how like children they strip off boots and 

 stockings to dash in bare-legged and drag the net to 

 the land ! What excitement over the silvery scales 

 gleaming in the shallow water among the tarry meshes ! 

 The heavier trout are tossed up walloping on the bank, 

 while the long-jawed pike grunt out their savage souls, 

 previous to being stuffed with odoriferous herbs and 

 embalmed in claret sauce. Nor is it bad fun when 

 the birds are a little wild after broken weather they 

 scorn to pack for protection in these wilder hills 

 sending the otter afloat on a mountain tarn, and 

 watching the stirring of the water in its wake, as 

 the little fishes fling themselves by dozens on to the 

 dragging flies. Ptarmigan-shooting repays you, if you 

 care to scale the very highest of your mountain peaks, 

 feast your lungs on the very purest of the mountain 

 air, and your eyes on the very finest of the mountain 

 prospects. And in its own way, a mountain fox-hunt 

 is nearly as good a thing as a fast burst with the 

 Quorn, although the find, the run, and the kill take 

 place in a few acres of country like the debris of a 

 score of pyramids of the largest size, just blown sky- 

 high by a portentous explosion of subterranean gases. 

 Were the weather more to be reckoned on, autumn 

 on the moors would be too perfect happiness for 



