CHAPTER VI 



" Let the fisherman his art repeat, 

 Where bubbling eddies favour the deceit." 



Minnows, please Shooting a Fox A Terror of a Pike 

 A Big Otter 



FROM behind the bush where my early morning's 

 treadings had trampled the rank growth into the 

 soft clay, I waited patiently for a cloud to spread its 

 shadow, and then cast my lure and brought it back 

 through the darkened tumbling water with my 

 every nerve expectant. How much the big fish 

 was responsible for this strained effort I cannot say, 

 but certainly it was owing much to the fact that 

 our host had told me there were several good trout 

 in the pool, and some one or two of them must be 

 beneath this rush. A dozen casts, with intervals 

 between for coming clouds, lessened my hope to 

 nothingness and, as my leaving the shelter of the 

 bush to spin from an open and elevated spot the 

 only other place available would be to show my 

 every movement to the inhabitants of the pool, I 

 decided to try again the method that got me the 

 fish before breakfast. 



Prior to any change of tackle it was my duty to 

 say a word to Nell, who, to demonstrate that all 

 was well and nothing mattered, was doing crochet 

 work which, when she saw me coming, she stretched 

 several ways and then patted on her knee, while 



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