ON THE MOOI OF NATAL 247 
hook worked itself out—an instance of fisher- 
man’s luck of the better kind. Two pounds 
thirteen ounces was what he weighed, and, well 
salted and peppered and with the vein near the 
backbone removed, he “kept,’ and made a 
delicious item on a Johannesburg breakfast table 
on the Sunday morning. Trout up to four 
pounds and even five pounds have been caught 
towards Kamberg, so the aforesaid brace were 
comparative youngsters, 
These were all real “days in the country.” 
Once my kind host sent me an Indian coolie to 
act as gillie. When a trout was hooked, this gillie 
showed remarkable interest in the proceedings, 
He even used the landing net well. When, as 
sometimes happened, a trout got off when being 
played, he would say: “Of, Boss !”—a mixture 
of sympathy and gentle reproach. It was, how- 
ever, preferable to the remark of a home gillie to 
a friend who had the misfortune to part company 
with a big fish: “And has your honour lost 
him?” One day was specially worthy of the 
description I have given. To a novice who had 
to do thirty miles on horseback there came sore 
realization that it was indeed a day in the 
country. Two farmer friends were my congenial 
companions, and one of them knew the best place. 
So we rode on. There was frequent temptation 
to dismount and try some likely spot, but the ride 
was continued steadily, with “the hobgoblin castles 
of the Drakensberg,” as the late W. G. Steevens 
called them, in the distance. Once, when we were 
