Sabrina Fair. 75 



shingle, appearing in the shallows, grew broader still, 

 until, uniting with the shore, they formed headlands in 

 the falling stream. The cattle strayed across to 

 pastures on the opposite bank. No salmon could 

 get up the river; the fishing records dwindled into 

 nothing. 



Then suddenly came the long spell of rain. The 

 white pebbles melted away into the rising stream. 

 The islands narrowed down and disappeared. Shiver- 

 ing aspens stood far out in the rushing river. Then 

 at last the fish came up. Then, in deep pools and 

 quiet reaches, a glimpse of silver and a mighty plunge 

 told that a noble salmon had leaped from the brown 

 flood into the air. 



The rain ceased at length, and the stream went 

 down. The islands showed again their disconsolate 

 faces. Ere long the sodden grass grew green and fair, 

 with a tinge it were faint praise to liken to the emerald. 

 The grey willows shook the moisture from their mud- 

 stained leaves. The water rats watched the deluge 

 drain away from their thresholds, and, sitting each 

 under the shadow of his own patch of meadowsweet, 

 they munched their meal of reeds in calm content. 

 The hopes of the fisherman revived. 



But, alas ! the river has not made up its mind. 

 There is a storm somewhere far away among the 

 mountains, and again the stream which never yet 

 has fallen to its summer level swells high and covers 

 up the reappearing way-marks. 



