AN AUTUMN FISHING 181 



last in desperation I cut a long hazel 

 stick from the bank, and tying a white 

 pocket-handkerchief to its tip waded into 

 the river, prodding with the beflagged 

 branch as near as I dare to where the 

 salmon lay. This suddenly brought him 

 to life again, and while I scrambled ashore 

 he rose noisily to the surface ; once there, 

 he commenced a fight which was as 

 strenuous as it was unexpected. The 

 fish had the advantage of twilight in his 

 favour, while for some minutes he pulled 

 and plunged and leapt amongst the 

 boulders. I shall never forget Jean 

 Pierre's sigh of relief when we got him 

 safely up the bank. Here memory 

 whispers that he was not a handsome fish. 

 . . . Perhaps he zvas a trifle red — yet 

 might that not have been reflection, 

 for still the afterglow of sunset lingered 

 in the sky ? In any case he scaled a full 

 and heavy 19 lbs. Jean Pierre and I were 

 well content as we trudged home. The 

 weight of those three fish seemed good 

 and solid. Such days in Brittany are rare 

 and far between. 



In the village the first lights were 



