CHAPTER XXIII 



ENCH TICKLING 



I "~f~^ ONE stinging hot afternoon we were 



sitting in the dinghy drifting idly 

 down a long dyke leading into a 

 secluded broad some distance from 

 the main river, with the sail flapping 

 against the mast and the main-sheet 

 over the gun'ale unfastened and un- 

 heeded. We felt almost too lazy to 

 gaze about us, and when our pipes 

 went out it was really too much 

 trouble to refill them. On emerging 

 from the dyke the boat gradually 

 drew over the broad at a pace not 

 exceeding two miles an hour, and 

 would probably have continued its 

 course until stopped by a reed bed 

 had we not been awakened into action by an angry hail 

 from a rough-looking specimen of humanity in a light punt, 

 who was seemingly drifting like ourselves in among the 

 weeds of a bay more secluded and more quiet-looking than 

 the remainder of the water. 



" Now then, why can't yer look out where yer coming to ? 

 Ain't the broad big enough, or do yer want to spoil every- 

 body's sport ? " 



We informed the gentleman in question that " the intru- 

 sion was quite unintentional on our part ; at the same time 



3*7 



A QUIET CORNER. 



