104 AN ANGLER'S HOURS vi 



thing which suggests a stout post has come 

 into collision with the bait, but something 

 that sends a thrill up the line and obviously 

 is not a post. In a second or two it became 

 obvious that the fish was a heavy one, and I 

 cast a hurried glance over my shoulder to 

 see if the keeper was still in sight. He was 

 a microscopic figure in the distance and 

 I whistled with all my breath to recall him. 

 Fortunately the sound carried, the retreating 

 figure stopped, recognised the signal of dis- 

 tress, and returned at a run. 



Meanwhile it was as much as I could do 

 to play the fish and attract assistance at the 

 same time. At first the pike moved steadily 

 up-stream for fifty yards or so ; then he came 

 back again at a great pace, and I had to run 

 with him, winching in line for all I was 

 worth a vain proceeding, as the fish imme- 

 diately took it all out again. After a while, 

 however, it became evident that the main 

 battle was to be in the deep water, and by 

 the time the keeper arrived proceedings had 

 become more dignified and sedate. 



"That's him," gasped the keeper, as a 

 thick olive-green back showed for a moment 

 close to the bank. 



