A SPRING FISHING 25 



result in a fall, and possibly a sprained 

 ankle. 



It was a long walk back. Twice I 

 tried a short cut, only to find myself in 

 bogland or thick undergrowth, and each 

 time must needs return to the stream 

 bank and follow its windings down to the 

 plain. Darkness had quite fallen when 

 I reached the pinewood, through which 

 I stumbled, very content to see the 

 carriage lamp glimmering ahead on the 

 bridge. 



Here, the others awaited me. The 

 Mayor had already taken his place on the 

 driving seat, while the Greffier was pack- 

 ing in the rods and tackle preparatory to 

 our start. They both asked questions 

 together. Had I lost my way in the 

 dark ? Had I obtained any sport ? The 

 fishing was not what it used to be, and to- 

 day quite impossible for la mouche, but I 

 had persisted in attempting the impossible. 

 It was a pity I had not come down to the 

 water below the mill, there they had done 

 not too badly. The Greffier had taken a 

 nice chub, and the Mayor three excep- 

 tionally fine eels. I handed up my creel, 



