THE OTTER'S STONE POOL 297 



superiority of man that we contrived to refrain from 

 ignoring our neighbour's landmark. 



One day, however, Miss Winsome made a sug- 

 gestion in which there seemed no harm. We had 

 been fishing in the customary parts all morning, 

 and, with comfortably heavy baskets, had reached 

 the end of our stretch. " You're still determined 

 not to poach a little, I suppose," she said; "but 

 surely we can have lunch in the Enemy's old fir-tree?" 



The idea was alluring. On a bright, hot day the 

 fir-tree was the very place for an outdoor meal. It 

 grew out of a precipitous sandy bank just behind 

 the fishermen's narrow track by the side of the 

 river. It was a stately tree, from the bole of 

 which, about twelve feet above the roots, two thick 

 branches, like the limbs of an enormous catapult, 

 forked out and up. Broom stood in patches on the 

 bank. By gripping the bushes we could climb, 

 and then step into the curves of the old tree from 

 a branch which drooped to the bank on the inside. 



" Come on, then," I said, having considered the 

 suggestion. " You go first," I added, when we came 

 to the spot, "and I will hand up the luncheon 

 basket when you're in the tree." 



"Just a moment," said she. "This end fly is 

 rather worn. I think I'll put on a Yellow Sally. 

 Sally's due about this time of the year; in fact, I 

 saw her out to-day* just round the corner there. If 

 I put Sally on now, she'll be well soaked when we 

 come down again. You run up, and I'll follow in 

 a minute." 



