As he was baiting for a fourth pounder, and just going to throw in again, he became aware of a man coming up the bank not one hundred yards off.

Another look told him that it was the under-keeper.

Could he reach the shallow before him?
No, not carrying his rod.

Nothing for it but the tree.

So Tom laid his bones to it, shinning up as fast as he could, and dragging up his rod after him.