A FISH-DRIVE. 159 



idly down-stream. Then amid the shouting and the 

 splashing a little old man, with thin grey wisps of 

 hair hanging over his streaming face, emerges from 

 under the surface, and we see that he holds on to the 

 end of the line. He pulls himself along it hand over 

 hand up-stream, until he reaches the snag on which 

 it is caught. Three or four men, swimming, leaping, 

 and diving, reach the snag almost as soon as he. 

 They lift the line clear. " All right ; no harm done ; 

 it is clear ; go on." And on we go again. 



Then a young raja uplifts his voice as he hauls in 

 his net, and, carolling cheerily, holds it up for the 

 inspection of the throng, with a silvery two-inch tish 

 struggling in its fold. " Lu-lu-lu, I've caught the first 

 fish," and every boat shouts congratulation and ap- 

 plause. But even as he turns the net round for all to 

 see his prize, the little fish with a despairing wriggle 

 slips through the meshes and falls back into the river. 

 "Adohi! [alas!] adohi!" he cries in genuine dismay; 

 and up and down the line condolence follows fast on 

 compliment. 



And so we went on. There was but little incident. 

 Now and again the line got hung up on a snag or 

 rock; occasionally a man caught his net on some 

 submerged obstacle, and had to extricate it amid 

 volleys of chaff; more than once a man fell or was 

 pushed overboard. And after some time a few fish 

 were caught at rare intervals in the casting-nets. By 

 eleven o'clock the sun was very hot ; the mists and 

 rain-clouds that had brought the cool of the early 

 morning had melted away, and a blazing sun striking 

 on to an expanse of glittering water through a cloud- 



