124 Summer 



could have put such stress on my line. I was roused 

 from my unpleasant reverie by the voice of the 

 keeper, who was saying as much to himself as to 

 me: 



' I saw the shot strike him. If that fish isn't 

 killed I've made him no weel' a favourite saying of 

 his when he had wounded anything badly without 

 bringing it immediately down. 



' What fish ? ' I asked bitterly. ' Do you call 

 that thing a fish ? ' touching the poor perch with my 

 toe. 



' That ! no, I mean the pike. Didn't you see him 

 take your perch as you were drawing it in ? I shot 

 him when he came to the top, and I'll bet my boots 

 he drifts into the stream.' 



We both strained our eyes to look for him in the 

 clear shallow water where the pool merges in the 

 stream. ' Look yonder ! ' cried the keeper ; and sure 

 enough there was the white belly of a dying fish 

 struggling to keep itself from being floated into the 

 head of the stream. Not one word did I say, "but 

 springing up to the waist in water, I darted into the 

 river, and too eager to wait quietly while the pike 

 drifted to a shallow where I could pick him up, down 

 I dived for him at once, and emerged dripping and 

 triumphant with him in my arms. 



' Hoorah ! ' shouted the keeper. ' Dod, but he is 

 a slapper ! ' and when weighed it turned the scale at 



