248 AN OPEN CREEL 



make it by no means easy. Long casting, patience, 

 and quiet are essential to success, and even with all 

 these the fish are uncertain, and there are many days 

 on which a single run seems to be all that one can 

 expect. During that soaking hour on the first day one 

 fish came to the boat, a pretty, olive-backed pike of 

 about seven pounds. After that there was a damp 

 two-mile walk to the station, and a short railway 

 journey to headquarters and dry raiment. 



The morrow opened with equal ferocity, and I had 

 grave doubts about fishing at all. Zeal, however, 

 triumphed over caution and an incipient cold, and I 

 started at last by a later train. It was the thought of 

 the big one that sustained me. He was a known fish, 

 and had been hooked and lost by an angler a year or 

 more before. Before starting, I requisitioned a large 

 cork and two smaller ones. The green and white pike 

 float and gaudy pilots had the day before seemed 

 altogether too conspicuous in water only about three 

 feet deep and as clear as glass. The corks being old 

 and dirty were a great improvement. It was some 

 time after n a.m. when the first cast was made from 

 the bank. The bait had hardly been in the water for 

 three minutes when the big cork disappeared with a pop 

 which was audible even at that distance of thirty yards 

 or more. I struck in haste, and since repent at leisure. 

 The fish immediately came straight in towards the 

 bank so quietly that I thought him only a small one. 

 An exclamation from the keeper first undeceived me, 

 and then I got sight of him for myself, and gasped. It 

 was obviously the big one and no other. Having come 

 tamely in almost to our feet, he turned with a great 



