DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 177 



need for hurry if the river's going to be frozen 



over." 



Everyone felt a desire to do something, so we 

 accompanied the impatient young man, to be 

 witnesses of his folly ; or, perhaps, it was because 

 we were longing to be on the river bank. Phil 

 had practised casting with the tin so little that I 

 was not surprised to see his minnow fly much 

 beyond where he intended, to the ice that coated 

 the water to near mid-stream. With jumps, in 

 answer to the hook's catches in the rough surface, 

 the lure reached the water and, before it had spun 

 three yards, it was seized, and a fifteen-pound fish 

 resulted. He fought as a fresh-run fish should and 

 was a picture on the frosted grass, but I think it 

 very probable we old folks and our faces attracted 

 most attention from the gillies, who were hurried 

 off to fetch the idle rods. 



It so happened that, on drawing for the beats we 

 should take, it fell to Phil and me to be on different 

 sides of the same stretch, and he went to the falls 

 while I was trying a lower pool. As I came op- 

 posite him I stood to watch, and found he had 

 acquired some proficiency in a style of fishing new 

 to him, and was looking quite likely for a second 

 fish. I advised, with shout and gesture, a slightly 

 slower draw, allowing the bait to sink a trifle 

 deeper in the rushing waters of the falls. This 

 immediately took effect, and he was hard into a 

 fish. He handled it well, too, and kept it under 

 control until, unfortunately, it decided on a journey 

 down-stream. When once it had left the pool the 

 fisher's knowledge of its doings was only to be 

 guessed by him by the merry pace at which the 



