THE VALLEY OF THE KEN 6i 



decided to retrace our steps after the completion 

 of operations on a certain long pool upon which 

 we were then engaged, when I became aware of a 

 mighty splash behind me. I thought, like the old 

 Scotsman in the tale, that "yon's a muckle fesh 

 loupin' ahint me," but, glancing over my shoulder, 

 I became aware of the unfortunate John — who had 

 been wading in the middle of the river — on all 

 fours with his arms deeply implanted in the water, 

 as though groping for trouts under the stones. No 

 sooner was an upright position regained than he again 

 floundered between two hidden boulders, and quietly 

 sat down — for the moment no vestige being visible 

 above the surface of the water but two white shanks 

 with boots on their extremities. As he staggered 

 to the shore he cast a glance in my direction, and, 

 I fear, did not see that lively sympathy depicted 

 upon my countenance which I should have wished, 

 and which the occasion most surely warranted. 

 That was the last straw. His rod was hurled 

 whistling through the air into a neighbouring 

 hedge (where fortunately it took no harm), while 

 his net flew off in another direction like a rocketing 

 pheasant. 



After collecting the ddbris (with now preter- 



