Christmas Eve in a Punt. 221 



die same way as the French soldier carries the field- 

 marshal's baton in his knapsack, had come to hand. His 

 good friend by-and-by pulled him into the middle of the 

 broad. 



" The big ones are in the deeps at this time of the year," 

 he pronounced. "They never get near the reeds if they 

 can help it after November or thereabouts." 



He had him, by Jove ! at last. The style of the fish's 

 striking fairly took away the fisherman's breath. It was not 

 the waggle, waggle, whack sort of strike, but one strong, 

 swooping pounce, succeeded by a rush which none but a 

 fool would attempt to check. I here repeat that Harvey 

 was a true sportsman. In this supreme moment he was 

 silent. A common man would have bawled — 



"Be careful, Thornbury, my dear boy," or "Gad, you'll 

 lose him if you don't look sharp," and so forth. 



Harvey simply rested on his oars and watched for emer- 

 gencies, backing after the fish when it was apparent that he 

 meant to fight for his life, having perhaps previously marked 

 a few small water-fowl or a favourite brother for his Christ- 

 mas dinner. Seen from the shore it must have been an 

 edifying tableau — the intrepid angler standing in the boat, 

 his rod bent in a graceful curve towards the water, and the 

 oarsman cleverly following in the direction of the runaway 

 fish. They were the sole occupants of the middle distance 

 of that wintry picture. 



The description shall not be prolonged. Say, for short, 

 that that Christmas Eve pike gave the pair twenty minutes' 

 play; say half an hour or more, if you will. The im- 

 portant point, so far as the fish was concerned, is that 

 they caught him ; so far as the captor was concerned, that 

 he weighed five-and-twenty pounds, seven ounces, and 

 eleven-fifteenths. 



