RANDOM MEMORIES 77 



Should you and I essay his methods, not 

 only might we lose a brace of fish, but 

 also we might fail to keep our tempers. 

 Once we get talking of our friend Jean 

 Pierre we are led on to so many river 

 happenings, that, could we picture but a 

 half of them, we'd never bank the fire 

 and get to bed. Yet one of them is 

 clearer than all the rest, wherein Jean 

 Pierre girds up his bragou-bras to wade 

 the reeded stream. It happened on a day 

 in May, perfect beyond recount, only I 

 know all things went right, the sun shone 

 and no single fish came short. By late 

 afternoon we had reached, with heavy 

 bag, the lower waters of Kerval. Good 

 fishing this, but difficult, for tall dry beds 

 of reed grow in the peat soil to the 

 water's edge. The land is boggy and 

 vibrates under a careless foot. One must 

 walk circumspectly or scare the fish. On 

 that day nothing could go wrong. My 

 last brace were two beauties. Jean Pierre 

 netted them, and curiously enough these 

 fish had each a length of fine string 

 protruding from his jaws. 



It was then that I felt Jean Pierre's 



