n8 ANGLING SKETCHES 



tell how long ! I heard the church clock strike, 

 but missed the number of the strokes. Soon he 

 started again down-stream into the shallows, 

 leaping at the end of his rush — the monster. 

 Then he came slowl}' up, and "jiggered " savagely 

 at the line. It seemed impossible that an}- tackle 

 could stand these short violent jerks. Soon he 

 showed signs of weakening. Once his huge silver 

 side appeared for a moment near the surface, but 

 he retreated to his old fastness. I ^^•as in a tremor 

 of delight and despair. I should have thrown 

 down m}- rod, and flown on the \\-ings of love to 

 01i\e and the altar. But I hoped that there was 

 time still — that it was not so \q.x\ late ! At length 

 he was failing. I heard ten o'clock strike. He 

 came up and lumbered on the surface of the pool. 

 Gradually I drew him, plunging ponderously, to 

 the gravelled beach, where I meant to " tail " him. 

 He )-ielded to the strain, he was in the shallows, 

 the line was shortened. I stooped to seize him. 

 The fra}-ed and o\-erworn gut broke at a knot, and 

 with a loose roll he dropped back towards the 

 deep. I sprang at him, stumbled, fell on him, 



