OF THIS EVENING 157 



a cock give tongue. But these may all be heard 

 by the river, and the river adds to them a number 

 of sounds all its own. Against the piles of the 

 bridge the water runs with a barely perceptible 

 chuckle. A coot clucks far off. A water-rat, 

 coasting in the blackness, plunges as one moves. 

 The big trout flop over after the fat sedge flies. 

 And now and then loud sucking sounds break out 

 under the banks. I have been taught to believe 

 the frogs to be responsible for these vulgar noises. 



All is peace. 



But to-night, somewhere up stream, there was 

 a heavy, lunging splash, followed by a thin pitiful 

 squeaking ; then silence. Another heavier splash, 

 three faint feeble cries, and again silence. 



And again silence. It was over, whatever it 

 was. The incident was closed. But the night did 

 not seem so sweet as heretofore, and I came 

 indoors. 



