150 AN OPEN CREEL 



urged, entreated, commanded almost, and at last, when 

 he put it as a personal favour, in spite of the fact that 

 my next perch was about due, I gave way. It was hot, 

 and nearly half a mile to the bush, but he was sure it 

 would be worth while ; catching something was a 

 certainty. I did catch something, or rather hooked it ; 

 but it was something that refused to come out a sub- 

 merged tree probably and it robbed me of two hooks 

 in succession, and frayed a new cast to rags. I suspect 

 that my adviser had a sense of humour, for, having 

 shown me the spot, he departed on his affairs, leaving 

 me to discover the tree for myself. But there are 

 times when humour does not strike a responsive chord 

 in the angler's breast. 



Sometimes, however, the people who advise us for 

 our good err through excess of zeal or through forget- 

 fulness of the fact that times change and we with them. 

 A friend once came to me bubbling with information 

 about a pond. It contained, he had heard, roach and 

 carp of great size, and beside them something myste- 

 rious that lived on the bottom and broke all who angled 

 for it. From the description it appeared to be an 

 alligator, for the strongest pike-tackle had been dedi- 

 cated to it, and had never survived the encounter. I 

 visited the pond. It was a toilsome journey, and the 

 can of live-bait was heavy. I angled for half a day in 

 as unpromising a puddle as could be imagined, and 

 might have angled there a whole day had not providence 

 relented and sent a farmer's boy to give me later 

 intelligence. There had been fish in the pond two 

 years ago, but since then evil-disposed persons had 

 destroyed them all with lime. No alligator had been 



