98 FISHING IN EDEN 



Both of us knew eyery inch of the water, and, 

 whereas I was aware of a certain uncanny feeling 

 of timidity in stepping into the dark water, " Bob " 

 proceeded as if it had been broad daylight and 

 second nature to him. 



I could hear the regular clock-like swish of his 

 line, and knew exactly where he was below me, but 

 could not see him. Trout were rising all around 

 me, steadily and quietly. 



The water, for a few yards in front of my rod, 

 retained on its surface all through the night a flat 

 glimmer of light. For some time I kept on, and 

 fish took me without any fear, but as the night wore 

 on the weird sounds increased, and impinged on the 

 ear with a new and strange distinctness. 



Every now and then a weasel or stoat would take 

 nature's legitimate toll of some poor rabbit, and the 

 still night would be awakened by a shrill scream. 

 The succeeding stillness was even more uncanny 

 than these occasional, murderous sounds. 



Finally, as if to complete my uneasiness, there 

 came a great, ominous splash just above me, and, 

 able to bear it no longer, I shouted to " Bob " to ask 

 him if he had heard it. His answer came back 

 immediately, " Ga on wi' thi fishen, it's nobbut a 

 coo wanten a drink." It was reassuring to hear his 

 voice, and feel that he was near by in the darkness, 



