THE ARM OF THE LAW 135 



my friend waded into the water, was just about 

 to settle down to good, hard casting, when a 

 gentle voice from the bank said : " I suppose you 

 have a fishing licence ? " 



One can imagine that some men with a turn 

 for humour and a dislike for being " put-upon " 

 would have said, "Yes, I've got a licence. If 

 you're the water-bailiff you might have asked to 

 see it when 1 was on the bank. If you do want 

 to see it I suggest that you come in and look at 

 it here." My friend, however, is of most placid 

 temper, so he waded to the bank and displayed 

 the document. But he appreciated the inwardness 

 of the situation. Some day, perhaps, that bailiff 

 will try the game on a less amiable individual, in 

 which case he may have to wait awhile. 



The nearest I got to being " for it " was 

 too funny to be serious and too serious to be 

 funny. I was by myself in a remote little village. 

 On arrival I went to the post office, and asked for 

 all the necessary fishing licences. One of the staff 

 explained that they did not handle fishing licences, 

 and referred me to a local gentleman, the repre- 

 sentative of the squire through whose land the 

 river ran. So I went off to the estate agent's 

 residence, two miles away through lovely country, 

 only to find the good man out. However, I had 

 been informed that the permit was half a crown 

 per week, a merely nominal charge for first-rate 

 fishing on good water ; so I left name, address, 

 and the necessary fee, with one of the staff, and 

 in due course the permit to fish arrived. Stupidly, 



