TROLLING. 487 



Ego — " Piscator, thou unbelieving Thomas ! What would'st 

 thou do with flies here ?" 



"Piscator — We of the brotherhood know them to work 

 miracles, and therefore believe in their efficacy." 



Ego — with a gasp and a sigh of exhaustion — " I see ! Ah, 

 Piscator ! Piscator ! The ruling passion strong in death !" 



" George — Looking behind him — " A breeze ! There comes 

 a breeze, gentlemen !" 



" Thank the good gods," and I almost overset the boat as 

 I lifted up my forehead eagerly to catch the first cool brush 

 of its coming wing. 



"Now for a trout," chuckled Piscator, with glistening eyes. 



Ah, it comes at last — so cool — so balmily delicious — driving 

 the white-topped wavelets before it — on ! on with it came the 

 black shadow of that angel-ridden cloud to shelter us. I 

 could have shouted for my joy — aye, lifted up my exulting 

 soul in paeans, as cloud after cloud came drifting on their 

 white plumes over us, with a legion of airy ministers which 

 had come to our relief ; but that my eyes fell upon the warm 

 face of Piscator, shining with perspiration and expanded into 

 a smile of pleasing expectancy as he watched the vibrations 

 of his line. I was amazed into dumbness. I gazed upon 

 the devotee in " a mute astound," when lo ! a heavy jerk — 

 a lurch and a shout, "you've got him!" from George, made 

 me aware that a fish had struck. "Reel him in!" said 

 George, as I hastily let go the line. "Reel him in," he 

 has line enough." I reeled away, while Piscator, too 

 generous to show his disappointment, did the like with 

 his, watching at the same time with benevolent interest 

 for my success. 



It was a pause of breathless interest, as I reeled rapidly 

 up for a few moments. " Curse it, George," I exclaimed 

 petulantly, "I feel nothing — the fellow has broken away." 

 He was watching my line — " No ! no ! reel on — you have 

 him, you'll feel liim directly." Reel ! reel ! reel ! and 



