the house, and this was the third day of a great calm. Presently, I secured a largish brown trout off the mouth of a stream, and at once began to anticipate a great basket. Across the lake came a hail. Oberhausen had left the sea-stream. "Hullo?" I cried, fishing away with the exaggerated care which a capture in such weather always engenders. "I have a net," called Oberhausen. "Break it up," I advised, and went on fishing. Confound! I had missed a rise. After that I was even more careful, and paid no further attention to Oberhausen and his net.
Suddenly my poor friend's voice was raised upon a different key. There was anger in it, and a trace of apprehension. "No, no," I could hear. "You mustn't do that. Keep off." One glance was enough to show me that Oberhausen was engaged in battle. I whirled the boat's head round and set off to his rescue. The approach of reinforcements seemed to cow the enemy. There was no more noise of strife. When I beached the boat, I found we had to do with a Mr. Henrik Ibsen, member of the committee, a signatory to our leases, one of our landlords. The trouble arose from the carelessness of Mr. Ibsen in leaving his fine new net stretched across the mouth of the sea-stream till 11 a.m., instead of taking it up four hours earlier, as his
