HOOKED FOUL. 219- 



might smite them hip and thigh with great slaughter. I 

 invoked the aid of the late Izaak Walton, Esq., and hummed 

 a bar or two of ' Doughty Deeds.' I so manoeuvred the 

 punt that the nut-brown unknown should have me in view, 

 to contrast my manly proportions, if haply she looked our 

 way, with the lanky, flax-headed, insipid dawdler, whose 

 general purpose in the economy of Nature, and particular 

 business in that punt, were unsolved conundrums to me just 

 then. 



" Swish ! whistle ! splash ! spin ! and at it I went. Heigho ! 

 What was this ? A tree-trunk submerged ? Bravo ! It 

 was one of the mighty ones of the lake. Feeling the hooks 

 he went off, pulling like a barge. Twenty, forty, fifty, a 

 hundred yards of line were run straight off the reel, without 

 so much as a ' By your leave.' It was that peculiar run 

 by which a substantial prize is always known, be it salmon, 

 trout, or pike ; none of your tug-tugs, dart-darts, here-there- 

 and-everywhere up-and-down trifling, but a steady, heavy,, 

 sullen travelling away from the base of assault. The stricken 

 fish headed straight for the bow of the other punt. My 

 companion, taking his commands from me, backed water, 

 and we followed. My lady had paused in her work, and. 

 stood, rod in hand, with, a dark green belt of firs as a distant 

 background, and the ruddy sun striking slantwise upon her, 

 a model for a statue. She forgot the formal reserve of the 

 lady, in the enthusiasm of the sportswoman. 



" ' You have a fine fish there !' she ejaculated, quite as- 

 delighted as if it were her luck, and not mine. 



" ' Indeed yes,' I replied, beginning to strain upon the 

 objett in question ; ' but unfortunately I have no gaff.' 



" ' Oh, take mine. Do you think I can help you ?' she said. 



