It did not matter now how much noise we made (within moderate limits), for the peace of that portion of the creek was destroyed for the night.
Half-a-dozen eels must have banded themselves together, and made a sudden and furious dash at the worsted ball, which Mr.U---- had been dangling in front of their mud hall-door for the last two hours.

Just as he had intended, their long sharp teeth became entangled in the worsted loops, and although he declared some had broken away and escaped, three or four good-sized ones remained, struggling frantically.
It would have been almost impossible for one man to lift such a weight straight out of the water by a string; and as we came up and saw Mr.
U----'s agitated face in the fantastic flickering light of the blazing tussock, which he had set on fire as a signal of distress, I involuntarily thought of the old Joe Miller about the Tartar: "Why don't you let him go ?" "Because he has caught _me._" It looked just like that.
The furious splashing in the water below, and Mr.U---- grasping his line with desperate valour, but being gradually drawn nearer to the edge of the steep bank each instant.

"Keep up a good light, but not too much," cried F---- to me, in a regular stage-whisper, as he rushed to the rescue.

So I pulled up one tussock after another by its roots,--an exertion which resulted in upsetting me each time,--and lighted one as fast as its predecessor burned out.

They were all rather damp, so they did not flare away too quickly.