It was stuck in the ground--not carelessly, nor even in any hurry; but
as a sportsman makes all snug, when for a time he leaves off casting.
For instance, the end fly was fixed in the lowest ring of the butt, and
the slack of the line reeled up so that the collar lay close to the
rod itself. Moreover, in such a rocky place, a bed to receive the spike
could not have been found without some searching. For a moment I was
reassured. Most likely George himself was near--perhaps in quest of
blueberries (which abound at the foot of the shingles-and are a very
delicious fruit), or of some rare fern to send his wife, who was one
of the first in England to take much notice of them. And it shows what
confidence I had in my friend's activity and strength, that I never
feared the likely chance of his falling-from some precipice.

But just as I began, with some impatience--for we were to have dined at
the Cross-Pipes about sundown, five good (or very bad) miles away, and
a brace of ducks-was the order--just as I began to shout, "George!
Wherever have you got to?" leaping on a little rock, I saw a thing that
stopped me. At the further side of this rock, and below my feet, was a
fishing basket, and a half-pint mug nearly full of beer, and a crust of
the brown, sweet bread of the hills, and a young white onion, half cut
through, and a clasp-knife open, and a screw of salt, and a slice of the
cheese, just dashed with goat's milk, which George was so fond of, but
I disliked; and there may have been a hard-boiled egg. At the sight of
these things all my blood rushed to my head in such a manner that all my
power to think was gone. I sat down on the rock where George must have
sat while beginning his frugal luncheon, and I put my heels into the
marks of his, and, without knowing why, I began to sob like a child who
has lost his mother. What train of reasoning went through my brain--if
any passed in the obscurity--let metaphysicians or psychologists,
as they call themselves, pretend to know. I only know that I kept on
whispering, "George is dead! Unless he had been killed, he never would
have left his beer so!"

I must have sat, making a fool of myself, a considerable time in this
way, thinking of George's poor wife and children, and wondering what
would become of them, instead of setting to work at once to know what
was become of him. I took up a piece of cheese-rind, showing a perfect
impression of his fine front teeth, and I put it in my