184 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



which multiplied in the haziness of coming sleep, 

 I travelled on to dreams that only ended with 

 the morning's call. 



A moist fortnight followed during which every 

 fisher was made more or less happy. It is a 

 pleasant time when all are pleased and chatty. 

 The river ran just the right height and the only 

 thought was of fish. The teachings of the Right 

 Honourable Joseph Chamberlain, the wealth of the 

 Rothschilds and the futures of kingdoms, were 

 small matters compared with : " What bait did you 

 use to catch those fish ? " or with the oft-repeated 

 question : " How do you manage, Geen, when a 

 fish comes on while the tin is full of coils?" My 

 reply to the latter question has become uniform 

 from repetition. " Trouble not of what will happen 

 when the fish is on ; use all your faculties to get the 

 attachment, the fish will do the rest." 



I am anxious that it should not be inferred from 

 this that I consider myself more clever than most 

 with a salmon ; indeed I must sometimes appear 

 a novice, for more than once strangers have offered 

 me advice when playing one. The last time this 

 occurred I heard a voice from behind telling me 

 what I ought to do if I hoped to land the fish. 

 I looked round to see who had spoken and got my 

 first glimpse of one of those well-meaning gifted 

 creatures who are always ready to give advice and 

 lend a helping hand. I know a Gaelic word or two, 

 not nice ones, but understood by gillies, which came 

 involuntarily as the worthy man bustled so near me 

 that I feared he meditated demonstrating his know- 

 ledge by taking my rod and showing me how to 

 hold it to stop the dashing, leaping fish. The 



