THE WATERS OF CADER IDRIS 



five pounds — a positive whale for these mountains, and 

 in any case a phenomenon, as the sole denizen and 

 product of a little patch of what might almost be 

 mistaken in golfer's phrase for * casual water.' How 

 long had he been there ? whence came he, and why- 

 had no one ever before seen him ? Nor again was 

 there any access up the smallest water-course to the 

 pool. However, the fish had got there somehow, 

 presumably in infancy, and acquired cunning perhaps 

 as he waxed and fattened, lying perdu by day and 

 raiding his preserve of grubs and minnows by night. 

 But these are the things that have kept the tongues 

 of the wisest at Tal-y-Uyn wagging to small purpose 

 for over three decades, and the problem, I have no 

 doubt, is as fresh and mysterious and insoluble as 

 ever. For there, I am told, is the fish still upon the 

 wall, and there beyond any doubt by the roadside, high 

 up the pass for every wayfarer to see, is the Pebble 

 pool, and those who have seen both can guess at the 

 life-story of that mysterious sockdolager in such fashion 

 as may seem good to each of them. 



When I began this chapter I had no intention of 

 lingering so long at Tal-y-Uyn, seeing how much more 

 time I have actually spent upon the river which runs 

 out of it and away down towards the sea which it 

 meets near Towyn. I have not so much as set eyes 

 on either lake or river for a dozen years. But away 

 back in the eighties a Httle group of us, old friends 

 and all fishermen, and what was infinitely more remark- 

 able at that remote date, not being North Britons, 

 all golfers, used to repair thither with our belongings 

 for the month of August and perhaps a little more. 

 H 113 



