A RUN OF LUCK 227 



a most terrible voice, and with commanding gesture, 

 and it moved slowly away. That is why I call him 

 Glendower henceforth ; the mantle of the district's 

 departed hero has undoubtedly fallen upon him. For 

 my own part memory was now awake and active, and 

 thereafter I went about with great caution. 



On the morrow I put on waders, took a seventeen- 

 foot rod, and proceeded to fish the pools to which I 

 had been introduced. Prospects were almost hope- 

 less. The river is not of great reputation at any time, 

 and there had been no flood sufficient to bring fish 

 up to the higher reaches for some weeks. In fact, 

 I had had all due warnings, and was possessed of 

 the disheartening knowledge that but nine salmon 

 had been killed by as many rods so far during the 

 season. Still, I was there to fish, and it was as well 

 to get into training at once, especially as slight rain 

 was falling, and we might, with luck, get water before 

 long. I needed training. After the first pool I per- 

 spired ; after the second I panted ; and after the third 

 I ached. And for all my toil I had but a single half- 

 hearted pluck at a tiny Jock Scott from a trout, I 

 fancied. Not a salmon did I see or feel. I came 

 to the conclusion at last that there were none. Also 

 I resented the rain in the inconsistent way that one 

 does resent arrangements which are for one's ultimate 

 good. I resented other things, too. There was an 

 old kettle in the water just by a footbridge ; its spout 

 pointed upstream, and its handle was about two inches 

 above the surface. I was indignant that the populace 

 should throw rubbish into rivers, and might have 

 waded in to remove the disfigurement had I not 



