262 AN ANGLER AT LARGE 



the house, and this was the third day of a great 

 calm. Presently, I secured a largish brown trout 

 off the mouth of a stream, and at once began 

 to anticipate a great basket. Across the lake 

 came a hail. Oberhausen had left the sea-stream. 

 " Hullo ? " I cried, fishing away with the exagger- 

 ated care which a capture in such weather always 

 engenders. " I have a net," called Oberhausen. 

 "Break it up," I advised, and went on fishing. 

 Confound ! I had missed a rise. After that I 

 was even more careful, and paid no further atten- 

 tion to Oberhausen and his net. 



Suddenly my poor friend's voice was raised 

 upon a different key. There was anger in it, 

 and a trace of apprehension. " No, no," I could 

 hear. "You mustn't do that. Keep off." One 

 glance was enough to show me that Oberhausen 

 was engaged in battle. I whirled the boat's 

 head round and set off to his rescue. The 

 approach of reinforcements seemed to cow the 

 enemy. There was no more noise of strife. 

 When I beached the boat, I found we had to do 

 with a Mr. Henrik Ibsen, member of the com- 

 mittee, a signatory to our leases, one of our land- 

 lords. The trouble arose from the carelessness of 

 Mr. Ibsen in leaving his fine new net stretched 

 across the mouth of the sea-strearn till II a.m., 

 instead of taking it up four hours earlier, as his 



