278 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



was just a trifle proud as I marched back to that 

 careless son of mine who still persists that it was 

 I who was most responsible for our needing that 

 meat-hook gaff. 



Pat Jennings's promise of sport had been given 

 subject to the weather's pleasure as though he was 

 fearing the change that came and prevented our 

 putting out to sea on either of the two following 

 days. So violent was the wind that we fished the 

 most sheltered lake for trout with the utmost 

 difficulty on the first day and with poor result- 

 nine fish between us ; but on the second we found 

 the still high wind had changed a point and aided 

 us to cover spots we could not reach the day before, 

 and we had sport that pleased us much twenty- 

 two fish, in weight from half-a-pound to one and 

 three quarter pounds. 



The third morning was a glorious one and soon 

 dispelled all thought of the violence which had pre- 

 ceded it. The sea had but soft, oily waves where 

 before huge, white-crested ones had tumbled and 

 hissed, and the blue haze that capped the distant 

 hills gave assurance that summer was with us yet. 



Pat was punctual and we were soon on board, 

 speeding on our way, favoured by a wind that 

 followed. 



Pat had a little store of eels for bait which he 

 showed by lifting them and then allowing them 

 to wriggle back through his fingers to the bucket. 

 I gladly accepted this earnest of his desire to do 

 his best, for I have known a professional fisherman 

 happily satisfied when the only provision he has 

 made for sport has been a half-gallon jar of beer. 



The satisfaction of our guide in his lines and 



