DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 77 



Geen, there's another whopper waiting for you at 

 Rushey and, I say, that terror of a pike at Radcot 

 Bridge has thinned another brook of ducklings. 

 Arnold swears he'll shoot the beast if he gets the 

 chance. But I must be off. Good-bye, all." 



I must in fairness take my reader to the pool in 

 which this notorious pike wrought such havoc and, 

 that he may fish with confidence begot of certainty 

 that he is at the exact spot, I will give a photo of 

 it. But, mind you, this fish, if still alive, has in all 

 probability long since lost his taste for ducklings. 

 Aged pike are all cannibals, and connoisseurs at 

 that, so the surest lure is their nearest relative. 



The result of our drive to Rushey with George 

 and his wife for Wilson's trout proved uneventful 

 as a fishing outing, but a call we made on our 

 homeward journey was the beginning of a friend- 

 ship that lasted for long years thereafter to the 

 mutual satisfaction of all concerned, especially to a 

 boy and girl who met in consequence of it, and 

 became so concerned with each other that they 

 concerned themselves about little else until they 

 had solved the old problem in the old-fashioned 

 way. 



