["The uncertainty as to the course of business, justifies, to
a certain extent, the criticisms of Sir WILLIAM HARCOURT and
Mr. LABOUCHERE, upon the proceedings of the Government."--_The
Times_.]
_B-lf-r_. Humph! Shifting ground again! I did think we were in for a
quiet swim and good sport.
"Oh! the jolly angler's life
Is the beat of any!"
Yes, that's all very fine, IZAAK. But it depends upon your pitch--and
your companions. I say, G-SCH-N, what _are_ you up to? Don't let the
punt swing round like that, man, I was nearly over, and my tackle's
fouled.
_G-sch-n_ (_struggling with pole_). All very well for you to sit
coolly there and criticise me, ARTHUR! _Wh-o-o-of!_ Confound the punt,
it's all over the place, and the stream's like a mill-race.
_B-lf-r_. Well, hold on to the pole, JOKIM, or we shall be all adrift.
We'd better have kept to our first pitch; it _was_ quiet there, and
we hooked one or two sizeable ones. (_Aside._) Fact is, you're such a
fidget, you lose your fish, and then want to change the pitch.
_G-sch-n_ (_aside_). That's right, grumble, grumble! Dawdling duffer,
he sprawls across the well in one of his infernal æsthetic attitudes,
picks the best swim, and girds at us who have to handle the poles.
Wonder SM-TH stands it.
_Sm-th_ (_aside_). Well, it's a good job I'm back in the punt. G-SCH-N
may be all very well at a right-away race in a wager-boat, when the
money's on, and I've seen him do a decent bit of bank-fishing in
a pegged-down match; but he _doesn't_ shine as a punter, though he
fancies himself a second ABEL BEASLEY. (_Aloud._) Hitch on that chain,
JOKIM!
_G-sch-n_ (_blowing_). Hang it, I can't.
[_Punt oscillates dangerously, nearly tipping over B-LF-R's
chair, and making his rod wobble._
_B-lf-r_. For Heaven's sake, G-SCH-N, mind what you're up to! My
hook's foul in a snag, and you've nearly snapped my top-joint.
_G-sch-n._ Well, wind up, then!
_B-lf-r_ (_muttering, and wrestling with his rod_). All very well,
man, but I've got to get clear first. Keep her still a minute, do.
[_G-SCH-N "holds on" till he gets red in the face, whilst
B-LF-R tugs at his tackle._
_Sm-th_ (_shoving strenuously_). My duty--to my--pals and punt--must
be done--at any cost; but if this is--"the contemplative man's
recreation,"--give me a hammock at Greenlands! (_Puffs and blows.
Aloud._) Are you all right, there, G-SCH-N?
_G-sch-n_ (_petulantly_). All right be blowed! What are _you_ up to?
_Sm-th_ (_mildly_). Trying to keep you straight, of course, my dear
boy?
_G-sch-n_. Oh! I like _that_!
_B-lf-r_ (_working away at his winch_). Humph! We've stirred up a
quiet swim, wasted a lot of ground-bait, lost several fish, and--now
where are we?
_Sm-th_. Look out, G-SCH-N! We shall be foul of that awkward snag if
we're not careful! Let's settle down here.
_G-sch-n_ (_stabbing wildly with his pole_). All very well--but I
can't find bottom that will hold. Shove, SM-TH, and keep your end up!
_Sm-th_. Just what I'm trying to do. [_Pushes gallantly._
_B-lf-r_. Nice chance for hooking 'em after this infernal stir-up!
Take me half an hour to get my tackle out of tangle, and then it'll be
close on to shutting-up time. One big 'un and two or three little ones
not much to return with. Look at those impudent young rascals chyiking
us from the banks! Oh, for heaven's sake, you fellows, get her fixed!
_Sm-th_. Hear the weir roaring, G-SCH-N? We're getting too near
"Danger," dear boy. That's right, you've got ground there. Now, then
hold her up! hold her up!
_G-sch-n_ (_a tip-toe, and at an angle_). Dash it, how she drags!
I was all but over! Come up! There, SM-TH, shove her up sharp, or I
shall be off, or lose the pole!
_Sm-th_ (_shoving his hardest_). All right! Shove it is!! Hold on,
G-SCH-N,--_I'm_ here!!!
_Rude Boys_ (_from the bank_). Yah--Boo! Better git out and walk, and
let _hus_ pole that punt for yer?
* * * * *
[Illustration: ALL ADRIFT!