DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 151 



handed over to the nervous grip of a lady, who 

 handled it, at first, as if there were danger of its 

 shooting something. The first tug soon came and, 

 with it, a cry: "Oh! there's a monster pulling 

 at it. What shall I do ? Take the rod, some- 



one." 



The other lady was next equipped, and then 

 four of the men, and business was soon in full 

 swing with the baiters fully occupied. 



Who that has long been a fisher has not had a 

 day of sport that lives in his memory as a time 

 when fish fed as if they had been subjected to 

 famine fare for weeks? Nothing daunts them 

 when in this mood and, in response to it, the 

 angler becomes as hurried in his movements as the 

 fish ; he stays not to trim his bait but casts it out 

 as long as a shred of food is left upon the hook 

 and ensnares another waiting victim. Multiply the 

 success of a fisher at such a time by six, three rods 

 on each side of the boat ; you will thus get some 

 idea of the bustle that there was on board. Cries 

 of "Look, look," "Oh! bother," "Another bait, 

 please," went on unceasingly. Any fear of mono- 

 tony was dismissed by the occasional appearance 

 of a pollack or by the sight of three pretty bream 

 on one rod, tugging in different directions, being 

 gradually hauled from their home and, in desperate 

 hope, ejecting from their mouths the food which 

 had brought such strange restraint on liberty. 



The ladies were long in getting tired and it was 

 not till late in the afternoon that they left us, by 

 the Shags dinghy, to see the children and to 

 get some tea. We kept busily at it until some of 

 us, too, were growing tired and almost welcomed 



