THE OTTER'S STONE POOL 303 



She dived behind her particular branch, and I 

 concealed myself behind mine. As soon as we were 

 uncomfortably settled one of the gamekeepers had 

 seized the rod. 



" We seem to have come on they poachers at last," 

 he said to the other. " We'll nab them this time."" 



" Golly, what a fisher ! " I heard Miss Winsome 

 muttering. " See how he holds the rod ! Nearly 

 straight out ! It looked far better when fishing by 

 itself." 



That was true. The gamekeeper did go about 

 his unexpected privilege clumsily. There seemed 

 danger that the gut might snap at any moment. 

 If the rod is not held pretty high one cannot 

 measure the strain. Nevertheless, luck, which favours 

 the lame and the lazy, favoured the gamekeeper. 

 The fish stopped in his rush before the reel was 

 empty. Then he leaped, and bored, and sulked, by 

 turns ; but it became evident that he was yielding. 

 The second keeper was ready with Miss Winsome's 

 landing-net, which had been lying beside the rod. 

 He dipped it into the water when, for the first time, 

 the fish came within a yard of the bank. 



"A grilse! Under his head, you silly!" ex- 

 claimed Miss Winsome, forgetting our equivocal 

 situation. Turning to me, she added, in a whisper : 

 " He's big enough to jerk out if he gets a smack 

 at the net with his tail." 



Fortunately, the Enemy's troops, being deeply 

 engaged in the diversion, did not hear this mono- 

 logue ; and soon the fish was landed. 



