lord and prosecutor?"

"Yes; and the yeoman with whom you exchanged shots on the
common."

"Hang it, Tom, just jump over and catch a brace of his trout.
Look how they are rising."

"No, I don't know. I never was very particular about poaching,
but somehow I shouldn't like to do it on his land. I don't like
him well enough."

"You're right, I believe. But just look there. There's a whopper
rising not more than ten yards below the rail. You might reach
him, I think, without trespassing, from where you stand."

"Shall I have a shy at him?"

"Yes; it can't be poaching if you don't go on his grounds."

Tom could not resist the temptation, and threw over the rails,
which crossed the stream from hedge to hedge to mark the
boundaries of the parish, until he got well over the place where
the fish was rising.

"There, that was at your fly," said East, hobbling up in great
excitement.

"All right, I shall have him directly. There he is. Hullo! Harry,
I say! Splash with your stick. Drive the brute back. Bad luck to
him. Look at that!"

The fish, when hooked, had come straight up stream towards his
captor, and notwithstanding East's attempts to frighten him back,
he rushed in under the before-mentioned walls, which were adorned
with jagged nails, to make crossing on them unpleasant for the
Englebourn boys. Against one of these Tom's line severed, and the
waters closed over two beauteous flies, and some six feet of
lovely taper gut.

East laughed loud and merrily; and Tom, crestfallen as he was,
was delighted to hear the old ring coming back into his friend's
voice.

"Harry, old fellow, you're picking up already in this glorious
air."

"Of course I am. Two or three more weddings and fishings will set
me up altogether. How could you be so green as to throw over
those rails? It's a proper lesson to you, Tom, for poaching."

"Well, that's cool. Didn't I throw down stream to please you?"

"You ought to have resisted temptation. But, I say, what are you
at?"

"Putting on another cast, of course."

"Why, you're not going on to Wurley's land?"

"No; I suppose not. I must try the mill tail again."

"It's no good. You've tried it over twice, and I'm getting
bored."

"Well, what shall we do then?"

"I've a mind to get up to the hill there to see the sun
set--what's its name?--where I waited with the cavalry that
night, you know."

"Oh! the Hawk's Lynch. Come along, then; I'm your man."

So Tom put up his rod