48 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



\vun't forget that one in a hurry. He did look 

 mortal spiteful as he laid there close to the spring. 

 But that charge o' shot in the head settled him, and 

 if one o' the haymaker's rakes hadn't been handy 

 he would a' gi'n us some trouble. Twenty pounds he 

 weighed, if you reck'lect. His teeth was like a dog's 

 more than a fish ; he was grand to look at, but no 

 good to eat, for he was dry as a chip. Big fish nor 

 big folks isn't allus the best. Where there's one big 

 un there's mostly sure to be another. Two days 

 after that, mind you, there was a flood. Jim went 

 home the weir way, and on the cart bridge he see 

 another lay, just that minute washed up, for the 

 water was runnin' over the boards. So he took his 

 stick and give him a crack over his noddle to keep 

 the great brute quiet-like, and put him in his basket 

 and brought him home. We found out why the 

 flood washed him on to the boards when we looked 

 down his gullet. He'd got another there of his own 

 sort, that had only just been bolted. That one 

 weighed three pounds good weight. It had half- 

 choked him. He weighed nineteen pounds, he did. 

 They two was a nice pair to have put in a glass 

 case.' 



Telling my old friend that I would give him a 

 call in the evening and smoke a pipe with him, I left 



