122 AN ANGLER'S HOURS vn 



looking at me without guile. " Didn't I 

 say as you'd catch something, master ? " he 

 demands. The incident of the dead body 

 has faded from his memory, and he is 

 sanguine once more. 



The next thought is luncheon, which we 

 must consume in haste, for only another 

 hour or two of daylight remain, and I 

 hope to catch at least another brace of fish. 

 Old Billy declines to trifle with sandwiches ; 

 he has obeyed my instructions to provide 

 himself with what he needs, and he in- 

 dicates the half- gallon jar which is his 

 constant companion on fishing excursions. 

 I am glad to see, however, that he has also 

 brought some bread and cheese. 



While we eat he relates various marvels 

 that he has seen and known. His favourite 

 story is of the enthusiastic fisherman and the 

 great pike which was supposed to have its 

 home in the river above the weir. The 

 usual way of fishing the river is to trail a 

 spinning-bait forty or fifty yards behind a 

 boat, and in the course of a day five or six 

 miles of water will be covered twice. The 

 great pike in question was said to live in 

 a deep reed- lined reach about four miles 



