But Stafford was utterly indifferent to rain and mist while the trout

were rising, and his basket was half full before he looked around him.

It is wonderful, when you are fishing, how great a distance you can

walk without noticing it. He had followed the winding course of the

stream until it had left the road far behind and struck into a valley,

the wildness, the remoteness of which was almost awe-inspiring; and he

stood still for a moment and looked up at the sky into which the tall,

sharp peaks of the hills lost themselves. The stream, broken by huge

boulders, rumbled with a soft roar which was the only sound that broke

the stillness. It was the silence, a profound stillness, which makes

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one feel as if one has wandered into an unknown world newly made and as

yet untouched by the foot of man, unsullied by his presence.

Stafford could not have quoted a verse of poetry to save his life; it

wasn't in his line; he could ride straight, was a first-rate shot,

waltzed like an angel, and so far his dictionary did not contain the

word "fear;" but he knew nothing of poetry or art, and only liked some

kinds of music, amongst which, it is to be feared, "Soldiers of the

Queen," and the now much-abused chorus from "Faust," ranked high in his

estimation. He was just simply a healthy young Englishman, clean-limbed

and clean-minded, with a tremendous appetite for pleasure, a

magnificent frame, and a heart as light and buoyant as a cork;

therefore, though an artist or a poet would have been thrilled to the

marrow by the wild grandeur of the secluded valley and the grimly

towering hills, and would have longed to put them on canvas or into

verse, Stafford only felt suddenly grave, and as if it were playing it

low down to throw an artificial fly, even of the best make, in such a

spot.

But in a moment or two the sportsman's instinct woke in him; a fish

stirred in a pool under a boulder, and pulling himself together he

threw a fly over the rise. As he did so, the brooding silence was

broken by the deep musical bark of a collie, followed by the sharp yap,

yap of a fox-terrier. The sudden sound almost startled Stafford; at any

rate, caused him to miss his fish; he looked up with a little frown of

annoyance, and saw on the break of the opposite hill some of the

mountain sheep which had stared at him with haughty curiosity running

down towards the green bottom of the valley followed by the two dogs.




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