By the blaze of my grassy torches I saw F----first seize Mr.U---- round the waist and drag him further from the bank; but the latter called out, "It's my hands,--they have no skin left: do catch hold, there's a good fellow." So the "good fellow" did catch hold, but he was too experienced an eel-fisher to try to lift a couple of dozen pounds weight of eels out of the water by a perpendicular string; so he tied it to a flax-bush near, and, stooping down in order to get some leverage over the bank, very soon drew the ball, with its slimy, wriggling captives, out of the water.

Just as he jerked it far on shore, one or two of the creatures broke loose and escaped, leaving quite enough to afford a most disgusting and horrible sight as they were shuffled and poked into the empty flour-sack.
The sportsmen were delighted however, and departed to a fresh bend of the creek, leaving me to find my way back to my original post.

This would have been difficult indeed, had not Nettle remained behind to guard my gloves, which I had left in his custody.

As I passed, not knowing I was so near the spot, the little dog gave a low whimper of greeting, sufficient to attract my attention and guide me to where he was keeping his faithful watch and ward.

I felt for my flax-stick and moved it ever so gently.