DAPPING ON LOUGH DERG 



never have been written. She flung the butt of her rod into 

 the boat, seized an oar lying beside her, and pushed against 

 the ridge with all her strength. And the boat slid off, just as 

 a big wave thumped against the side, and deluged us both with 

 part of its icy contents. We were safe, however, and, but for 

 the wetting, none the worse for the adventure ; and, miracle of 

 miracles, my fish was still on. But we were not yet out of 

 the wood, for the wind had shifted more to the west, and we 

 were drifting into a small cove littered with rocks, some above 

 water and more below ; and it was blowing harder. I pro- 

 posed to break with my fish, but my companion would not hear 

 of it. Instead, she volunteered to take charge of the boat as 

 long as I did my duty by the trout. 



And she carried out the compact magnificently. For not 

 only did she bring us out of the dangerous cove, but she kept 

 me off a long lee-shore ; and finally, as the squall increased in 

 strength and the sea grew worse, she rowed me round a shelter- 

 ing point where, in comparatively smooth water, my fish even- 

 tually yielded himself to her net. That fish was certainly a 

 gentleman. He weighed 5 lb., and his colour underneath 

 was something quite unusual, almost an orange-red. 



The best day's dapping Danny and I ever had opened 

 with one of those lovely mornings on which one feels glad to 

 be alive. The cuckoos were answering each other across the 

 water, and the cackling jackdaws circled round the ivy-clad 

 Keep, as we pushed off after an early breakfast. The coots 

 were squabbling and splashing all along the shore ; and away 

 in the reeds the wild duck were vociferously debating questions 



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