

304 WHAT I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



grown to expect. It answered. At last I saw the 

 top jig, jig, and then the whole rod bend as the 

 fish attempted his journey to the rear. 



For full two hours the fish kept the fisher and 

 his assistant busy, and, when the lull came (it only 

 lasted a few minutes) I availed myself of it to give 

 them more dumplings with just a broken worm or 

 two at which they could come and nozzle but not 

 fill themselves. 



By lunch-time the fish were packed in the 

 bottom of the well as sheep are in a pen so, to make 

 room for others, I, in obedience to the orders of 

 my guest, put all the fish, excepting only two, back 

 into the river. It need scarcely be said I took 

 them far enough down stream to ensure they would 

 tell no tales to those we still desired to catch. 



The afternoon's fishing was without a break in 

 its success. The luncheon hour's rest and the 

 provoking clay balls had evidently made the fish 

 hungrily anxious for the luscious worms that had 

 accompanied the clay on previous days. No 

 sooner had the baited hook found its resting-place 

 than it was seized and the rod was bent with the 

 efforts of a fish to go rearwards. 



It was a wonderful day and a wondrous take 

 of barbel for one man to get. 



So the promise of the morning was gloriously 

 fulfilled. I have a rod to commemorate that day, 

 much too grand for use, which has inscribed upon 

 its butt " From Thomas Spreckley to Philip Geen." 



