THE "WHUSTLER " 259 



opinion in a deliberate, matter-of-fact 

 tone, in which there was no petulance. 

 He was seriously alarmed. Perhaps he 

 had a melancholy satisfaction in the pro- 

 spect of the evil hour being much worse 

 than he had foreseen. 



The hour, however, had not yet struck. 

 Suddenly I realised that we were aground. 

 Our arrival was without violence. As 

 placidly as an express train slips into 

 King's Cross a few minutes after cover- 

 ing full sixty miles an hour, our boat ran 

 up against a shelving bank. I leapt 

 ashore, and renewed my attentions to 

 the whustler. He, too, seemed to realise 

 that the battle had entered into new 

 conditions. He bored about, calmly, 

 almost in a weak manner, as if he were 

 a conger -eel. I reeled the line in, and 

 let it out, according to his comings and 

 goings ; but I did not stand still. I had 

 to run about a good deal, and in breaking 

 through the scrub, which came down to 

 the edge of the water, was sorely gashed 

 in hands and face and clothes. Never- 



