A Sportsman at Large 47 



carefully plumbed the depth and set my tiny cork float 

 accordingly. It now cocked beautifully. Anticipation was 

 in evidence. Agitation not unexpected. Realization hoped 

 for ! Happily the three emotions materialized. First there 

 was a gentle oscillation of the cork, which sent little fairy rings 

 radiating from its circumference. Then it curtseyed slightly. 



" Those confounded little rudd," I thought. (There were 

 hundreds of them and baby perch in the pond). " They 

 will have my bait off before ever a carp has a chance to grab 

 it ! " 



But now the float dipped decidedly, but sedately, until 

 only the quill at its top remained out of water. Then it 

 began to sail majestically out and away from the bank. 



No rudd this ! 



I had had sufficient experience of carp bites to sense the real 

 thing. My heart thumped as I struck ! 



Yes, there was a dour resistance presaging a mighty rush. 

 The reel screeched as the line was torn off it. 



The first run of a heavy carp is something to remember. 

 It is no good trying to stop it, or to put on a gentle, ever- 

 increasing pressure as one can with a salmon. A carp must 

 be allowed to go right to the end of its sprint, before any 

 attempt is made to curb its impetuosity. After that, control 

 may, or may not, be successfully attempted. 



On this occasion I triumphed, and had the satisfaction 

 of netting a golden beauty of nine pounds. What is more, 

 I accounted for eight others before the fish gave up feeding. 

 But the first was the " daddy " of the bunch ; the next biggest 

 being five and a half pounds and the smallest three pounds. 

 The average four and a quarter pounds. These were not really 

 big carp, as carp go, having regard to the twenty-pounders and 

 upwards that we hear of from Cheshunt and various other 

 quarters ; but they gave me splendid sport for nearly two hours 

 and filled me with an exceeding great j oy . 



I killed only one of these fish, just to see what it tasted like 

 (it was decidedly muddy in flavour) ; the rest I placed in the 

 well of the punt as I caught them, and when opportunity 

 afforded, transferred to the Barton Pond, near the house, 

 where, to this day, they may be seen enjoying their sun bath 



