<' 



66 THREE FISH 



care to leave by my salmon pool, but still with this 

 they were wont, as they said, to land " the gentlemen's 

 fish." Taking this I started in. " Whatever you do, 

 keep the point of the rod up." This was my parting 

 injunction to Mick, and Mick grinned a ready reply, 

 for he was a great fisherman. 



Well, it was horrid. The water was running very 

 strong and deep, and even with the help of the 

 landing-net handle I had much ado to keep my feet. 

 I could only move sideways and move by inches 

 with my face towards the stream. And even when the 

 stone was reached, it was worse than ever. For it was 

 a pretty ticklish thing standing without support, while 

 with the landing-net an effort was made to stir the 

 fish who lay so awkwardly beyond the stone. 



It was done at last. For one instant the line 

 flashed off like lightning, and then, singing past my 

 face, came the loosened fly and — all was over. 



Mick the mole-catcher had lost his head and 

 dropped the point of the rod ! 



What they said to Mick I do not know. A village 

 is rightly jealous for the good name of its heroes. 

 The only word I caught was the parting slow remark 

 of the old miller as he turned to go, " Ay, lad, but it 

 was a braw fish." 



