14 BROADLAND SPORT 



the southern shore, and silently swam towards it, encumbered 

 as they were by thick clothing, heavy boots, and oilies 

 (waterproofs). 



They had not gone far when poor Jack gasped out, 

 " I'm done for," and the waters he had loved so well, and 

 all his life defied, closed over his head and claimed him as 

 their own. 



His companion reached the shore, how he never knew ; 

 but numbed with cold, and more dead than alive, he managed 

 to crawl to the light they had seen, and he frightened the 

 female occupants of the house almost into a fit when he 

 presented himself. 



A search party was immediately organised but Jack 

 Sparrow's body was not recovered until two days after- 

 wards. 



Poor old Jack ! many is the time the author has been 

 out with him, and many a yarn he has listened to from 

 the lips that will move no more. With all his faults he 

 was a right good sort in his way, but it was a way which 

 only sportsmen could tolerate ; even to them he was, at times, 

 a sore trial. 



By the time this narrative was concluded the visitors had 

 been successful in finishing the contents of the stone jar, and 

 as there seemed no intention of a refill, they made a 

 move towards the door. 



It is evening. The sun is sinking behind the Fishrow 

 Hills, causing the dark tops of the Scotch fir trees, which 

 peep over their brow, to give the appearance of a ridge of 

 rocks. The Broad lies calm and tranquil, except where a 

 few swans and ducks disturb its bosom, or idlers in boats are 

 drifting in a listless manner to and fro. The yachts have 

 laid to and made up for the night. The wherries are unable 

 to proceed, except with the assistance of the unwieldy quant, 

 and the wind has died away to a whisper, which is usual in 



