ON A BUCKINGHAMSHIRE LAKE. 97 



destination we found a clear atmosphere and 

 a cloudless sky. 



" Not a very good day, gentlemen, there's 

 no ripple." 



The keeper's parting words, as we pushed 

 off in the punt, were ominous, and only 

 too faithfully expressed our own opinion. 



"Ripple! ' I said to myself discon- 

 solately, " Why, the lake is a sheet of glass. 

 It could not have been in worse trim for " 



Click, Click, Cl-i-ick, my reel broke in. 



"Bear a hand with the gaff! " shouted 

 my companion from the stern. 



" Sorry I can't," I replied from the bow r 

 " I have a fish on myself." And then, in 

 syncopation, came the music of both reels. 



Glancing over my shoulder, I noticed that 

 his fish was proving anything but docile, and 

 not likely to be ready for the steel just yet. 

 I also discovered that both pike were fighting: 

 their battles on the starboard side. Mine was 

 carrying on the contest in a series of powerful 

 jerks, a proceeding I greatly disapproved, for 



