A BASKET ON ALL FOOLS' 107 



strengthened by a marvellous capture of three, one out 

 of each of the little pools below the weir. The last 

 fish now seemed a certainty, for there was still an 

 hour before the train had to be caught, and nearly 

 a mile of water down to the bridge. Yet so uncertain 

 is fate that at about ten minutes to seven I had 

 reached the bridge, and the basket was still twenty- 

 three. Sorely had I been tempted to keep one of the 

 two-ounce fish which had insisted on being unhooked ; 

 grievously had I lamented the loss of a good half- 

 pounder in the last pool of all ; but there I was in- 

 complete. For a minute or two I debated whether I 

 should make a last expiring effort or no. I was dog- 

 tired and devoid of hope, but twenty-three was a very 

 unsatisfactory total. 



So, swiftly deciding, I turned and stumbled back to 

 the pool where I had lost the half-pounder, fishing it 

 down in the dusk. Twenty-four came to me at once, 

 but I blush to say that he weighed little more than 

 two ounces. I put him into my basket with shame, and 

 record the fact with sorrow. What irony of fate 

 ordained that I should catch a nice brace, quite 

 five ounces apiece, immediately afterwards I know not ; 

 but so it was, and I just managed to catch the last 

 train by sternly putting away an incipient longing 

 for thirty. It was a delightful day, remarkable for the 

 fact that the trout rose practically from n a.m. till 

 dark, a thing which has not often happened to me so 

 early in the year. On the main river, too, the Doctor 

 had found matters much the same, and had utilized 

 the opportunity by getting a fine level baker's dozen, 

 which made mine look like pigmies, and weighed 



