THE WATERS OF CADER IDRIS 



the Dysynni where they rushed into the deep. Not 

 a living man in Great Britain could have done that 

 by accident except Dick. And if my readers can 

 think I can tell such a foolish tale if it hadn't happened 

 exactly as related, I cannot help it. 



' Did you get any fish ? ' said I. 



1 Not a fish,' said he ; * this is my second attempt, 

 and it will be my last.' 



' That is fortunate for your friends,' I replied. 



I saw the colonel the next day, and he was very 

 depressed. He said that at least ten shillings' worth 

 of flies, three casts, and his favourite hat, made to 

 order, had gone out to sea. 



He said further that his opinion of my friend as an 

 entertaining companion had suffered no whit, but as 

 a fishing partner my estimate of him was only too 

 true. They had fished of necessity more or less along- 

 side of one another, and so long as it was dusk he 

 managed to elude the wild whistling flights of his 

 neighbour's fly. But when it grew dark, what with 

 the constant eloquence, sociability, and reckless pro- 

 cedure of the other he was compelled to take his 

 chance. ' It might have been worse,' he said, * for 

 again and again he grazed my ear, and when the blow 

 fell it just took the tufty button of my hat and swept 

 it clear into the river. I wish I had taken your advice, 

 but we live and learn, though I couldn't have imagined 

 there was such a feather-headed chap on earth.' 



Poor Dick, he died this long time ago, but I still use 

 to this day the fly-book he gave me in his prompt 

 disgust with fishing, with his name scrawled in a boyish 

 hand upon the parchment. He just missed being a 



