A SUSSEX BROOK. 81 



then a pulsating resistance told me that 

 the fish had fastened. Across the pool, 

 towards some half submerged debris on the 

 further side, brought down by a winter spate, 

 he went. If his goal were reached I knew 

 that it meant certain entanglement and any odds 

 on a break, and, raising the point of my rod, 

 I strove to bring him over to my bank. As 

 I did so, the fish flung himself out of water 

 and I caught a momentary glimpse of a 

 spotted side. I hastily lowered the rod, and he 

 raced hard down stream to a place where, 

 from unhappy experience on a former occasion, 

 I knew, only too well, a sunken root was con- 

 cealed. This time, however, the danger was 

 averted, but before I succeeded in bringing 

 him over the net, the trout had made another 

 leap for freedom. 



While I was disengaging the hook, I be- 

 came aware that there had been a spectator 

 of the proceedings, for leaning over the bridge 

 was the gamekeeper, returning from his 

 evening round. 



