TACKLE AND FISHING GEAR. 85 



my friend was taking it easy. Throwing back the rod over my 

 left shoulder, and tightening the strain on the fish as much as 

 possible, I contrived with the right hand by sheer muscle to 

 force the gaff down to the bottom, right under where he was 

 lying a depth perhaps of two and a half or three feet. A lucky 

 stroke upwards did the rest at the first attempt. I shall never 

 forget the rush that fish gave. For an instant or two it was 

 'pull devil, pull baker.' But, with the weight of water on him, 

 four hands instead of one might have failed to haul him out 

 In the present case, it was perfectly evident that he on the con- 

 trary would haul me in. I felt I could not hold on another 

 moment, and yet could not bring myself to let go ; when 

 suddenly the gaff twisted, I imagine, in the socket, cutting the 

 line as it came away, and leaving me to struggle my way back 

 to terra firma as best I could. 



A long, deep, still pool, some two or three hundred yards 

 long, stretched away below the fall, and down the bank of this 

 I wended my way towards the next cast, in a sufficiently un- 

 amiable frame of mind. Suddenly my eye was caught by some- 

 thing that looked like a huge bar of gold wavering slowly with 

 the current about mid-stream. I guessed in a moment that it 

 was my late antagonist who, poor fellow, had gotten his death 

 as well as his liberty. With an impromptu grappling tackle I 

 succeeded after a few attempts in hooking and bringing him to 

 bank. He was not quite dead, however, but still made a feeble 

 fight, and was game to the last ; like Hotspur 



... in bloody stale 

 Rend'ring faint quittance, wearied and out-breath'd. 



Another, somewhat ludicrous, incident of this sort occurs to 

 my memory, although the successful party in the encounter 

 was, I believe, on this occasion a pike. I say I 'believe,' 

 because the whole of his body except his tail fin was deeply 

 embedded in weeds from which it would have been impos- 

 sible to extricate him by any legitimate method. 



It was on the Hampshire Avon at Summerley, the beautiful 



