ground, stole along the bank of the creek towards the place where a
blazing tussock, serving as a torch, showed the successful
eel-fisher struggling with his prize. Through the gloom I saw
another weird-looking figure running silently in the same direction;
for the fact was, we were all so cramped and cold, and, weary of
sitting waiting for bites which never came, that we hailed with
delight a break in the monotony of our watch. 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