32 I GO A-FISHING. 



will hit it correctly within an ounce or two nine times 

 out of ten ; for the angler knows his rod, and it grows 

 to his hand like a part of it, so that he feels the fish on 

 it as if he were in his very grasp. 



He went down stream thirty yards, and then yielded 

 to the pressure and swung across the current. Just for 

 a moment it seemed as if he would try it again down the 

 current, and, if so, I must follow him, for I had only ten 

 yards of line left on the reel. But the hook held well, 

 and the angry fish began a series of rushes from one 

 side of the stream to the other, back and across, again 

 and again, darting like an arrow, as if at each rush he 

 would go high out on the land, but turning with incon- 

 ceivable swiftness at each bank. Then suddenly, and 

 in a style wholly uncommon with the brook trout, he 

 started down stream, over a low fall and into a deep 

 hole, where he sulked like a salmon. 



The Doctor had watched me with intense anxiety so 

 intense that he forgot his own line and fly, and stood 

 with his mouth and eyes wide open as the reel flew 

 around with its shrill noise. He uttered an ejaculation 

 of satisfaction when the sound ceased, and now accom- 

 panied me as I made my way down the bank, slowly 

 winding in the slack of the line without disturbing the 

 gentleman who had hold of the other end. 



" Easy, easy, now; don't hurry yourself, boy." 



" Be quiet, Doctor ; your pulpit voice and declamatory 

 style will stir up his friend down there. Do be quiet." 



" Hum. You're impertinent, Philip ; and, besides that, 

 you know as well as I that fish can't hear. That's set- 

 tled now beyond a question." 



" I say, Effendi, just give the Doctor your rod. He'll 

 not be content till he has it in his own hands." 



