134 TROUT-FISHING IN BROOKS 



Said I : " Johnny, don't lose your head ; 

 there's a bull behind us." 



Johnny: "Oh, lord, sir ! " 



" Steady, now, a moment." 



Johnny : " Us be killed, sir, sure." 



" No fear. When I say ' Now,' run like the 

 devil." 



Johnny : " I will that, sir." 



It seemed providential, for on glancing hur- 

 riedly about I had descried a roofless old linnhay 

 not over fifty yards to our left, one broken wall of 

 which formed an inclined plane to the ground. It 

 was the only shelter visible. A fearful roar 

 admonished me to give the fateful word, and I 

 question if a St. Leger favourite could have 

 covered ground more speedily than we did. It 

 was a close shave, as we had barely scrambled 

 up out of reach when the bull came crash against 

 the wall. The ensuing hour was one to be 

 remembered, and then a lowing from the distant 

 herd proved metal more attractive. The siege 

 was raised, and we breathed again. 



Let me once more enjoin fishermen to be ever 

 scrupulous in refastening all gates through which 

 they pass. It is only courteous, and neglect in 

 this respect may forfeit one's leave. I can speak 

 with feeling, as from only once forgetting to 



