DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 109 



flut:ered in the breeze, as if with independent life and 

 knowledge that they only waited for a little more of 

 both before fulfilling their mission of decorating and 

 renewing the meadows, which had already put a yellow 

 tint upon their grasses in honour of their coming. 

 Moorhens chattered merrily, two rats swam across the 

 stream in happy confidence, and a midge had a 

 moment's life in which it sailed a yard or two, fluttered, 

 and was sucked into a mouth waiting its morning meal. 

 A grayling, two pounds at least, rose twice while I 

 was putting my rod and line together, but the ditch 

 was a barrier between that fish and me. He rose 

 a third time, as if to show that I had thought too 

 little of his weight, and added quite a pound to my 

 first estimate. 



I must jump the ditch. Phil did, and why not 

 I? It is not two months since I walked with him 

 over stubble and through turnips until he tired, 

 whilst I killed quite clean even after lunch. Looking 

 across I saw that the deep boot-prints where he had 

 landed had filled vrith dark, muddy water, and I remem- 

 bered that he, having been on the wing while I had 

 been in the centre of the line of shooters, might perhaps 

 have had more occasion to be tired than L But still, 

 the ditch is not so very wide, I thought : Lll jump 

 and chance it. 



I jumped, and was sorry; sorry for the ink}^ black- 

 ness that splashed me, sorry for its odour, and sorry 

 for mj'self; but pleased — in a funny sort of way — 

 to be a source of merriment to my son as I knew I 

 must be when next we met. 



I will tell you of my rod and line although probably 

 you have favourites of your own, because there is 

 a chance that j^ou may wish to know what experience 

 has taught me to think the best for such sport as we 

 were after. 



The rod is a Hardy, a ver}^ old one, of split cane, 

 ten feet in length, and the weight is nine ounces, 



