Every now and then some one struck sharply, trying to make himself

believe that roach or dace had taken the bait, but the movement of the

float was always due to the line dragging the gravelly ground, or the

bait touching one of the many weeds.

The sun was intensely hot, and scorched our backs, and burned our faces

by flashing back from the water, which looked cool and tempting, as it

ran past our feet.

We fished on, sometimes one handling the rod and sometimes the other--

beginning by throwing in the line with whispered words, so as not to

frighten the fish that were evidently not there, and ending by sending

in bait and float with a splash, and with noise and joking.

"There's a big one," some one would cry, and a clod torn out from the

bank, or a stone, would be thrown in amidst bursts of laughter.

"Oh it's not a jolly bit of good," cried one of the boys; "they won't

bite to-day. I'm so thirsty, let's have a drink."

"No, no, don't drink the water," I said; "it isn't good enough."

"What shall we do then--run after the cows for a pen'orth of milk?"

"I say, look there," cried George Day; "the tide's turned. It's running

down. We shall get plenty of fish now."

"Why, there's somebody bathing down below there," cried another of the

boys.

"Yes, and can't he swim!"

"Let's all have a bathe," cried young Day.

"Ah, come on: it will be jolly here. Who's first in?"

I looked on half in amazement, for directly after catching sight of the

head of some lad in the water about a couple of hundred yards below us,

who seemed to be swimming about in the cool water with the greatest

ease, my companions began to throw off caps and jackets, and to untie

and kick off their boots.

"But we haven't got any towels," cried George Day.

"Towels!" cried one of the others; "why, the sun will dry us in five

minutes; come on. What a day for a swim!"

It did look tempting there at the bottom of that green meadow, deep in

grass and with the waving trees to hide us from observation, though

there was not a house within a mile, nor, saving an occasional barge

with a sleepy man hanging over the tiller, a boat to be seen, and as I

watched the actions of my companions, I, for the first time in my life,

felt the desire to imitate them come on me strongly.

They were not long undressing, one kicking off his things anyhow,

another carefully folding them as he took them off, and tucking his

socks inside his boots. But careful and careless alike, five minutes

had not elapsed before to my delight George Day, who was a boy of about

fourteen, ran back a dozen yards from the river's brink and threw up his

arms.




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