32 Sporting Sketches 



yards away into the field. The larger fish had paused 

 for a second or two as its leader was struck, and 

 gave me time to whirl the grains into position for a 

 throw. The fish had passed, but a swift shot after 

 it landed the tines in its back, and we got all three. 



This was such a lucky performance that Jack 

 produced his bottle of hard cider, and we made 

 " two bites " of it, to save lugging the flask farther. 

 The sun had by this time gained full power, the 

 surface of the water seemed to be brighter and more 

 dazzling than usual, and some way or other we 

 seemed to laugh more over the capture of our three 

 prizes than was really necessary. I know, of course, 

 that I was laughing mainly at Jack, and my mirth 

 did not decrease when he began to talk about the 

 big fish and what he'd do if some son-of-a-gun from 

 town happened to get it before we could find it. 



In time we reached a small log bridge spanning 

 the stream, and here we paused to bask in the pleas- 

 ant sunshine and to get pipes going once more. 

 Somehow I felt strangely lazy and drowsy, and Jack, 

 while he did an enormous amount of talking, failed 

 to interest me overmuch, or to mouth his words in 

 his usual crisp style. We sat till I caught myself 

 actually nodding; then we laughed some more and 

 got upon our feet. Before leaving the bridge I pro- 

 ceeded to examine the water below it, and made an 

 important discovery. Under a large log lay a long 

 greenish form with fins that wavered slowly, and a 

 tail that sculled with just sufficient power to keep 

 its owner in his hiding-place despite the current. 

 Near the big tail a white scar showed distinctly, and 

 I knew that at last we had found our lost friend of 



