For a moment he stands among the rushes, drawing deep breaths as he listens enraptured to the deafening music of nature. The larks are carolling above his head, and the wild ducks rise with a great deal of splashing and fuss; now a snipe comes sailing past and sinks in a long, concave curve.
A sunbeam finds its way into the jungle, and showers a cascade of shifting, dancing patches of light over him. He perspires and pants, and wipes his forehead; he blows his nose after the manner of primitive man; he has once more become the kind of being that the Almighty called Man, when He placed him on the earth.
At an opening in the rushy margin, where an old, fern-clad ridge runs out into the water, he gets his rod ready.
And now let Grim beware! Here comes a fisherman with shrewdness and intelligence! His clothes are the colour of the heron’s feathers, his rod painted sky-blue, and his line is grey-green like the long stalks of the water-plants.
He creeps along the mossy, boggy bank, taking care to avoid all disturbance of the water. The pike is timid, and easily put to flight, watchful and agile; if he only breaks a reed, if he only lets a snail-shell drop into the water, it will perceive him. He finds out places where he thinks the fish is lying, and expectantly drops his bait beyond the edge of the reeds on the point of land.
The peat-cutter follows him at some distance. He has strict orders on no account to utter a syllable, and to tread with extreme caution and care. He has his gun all ready, for he is thinking with misgiving of all the stories he has heard about the fabulous “serpent.” He recollects that Sidse, old Anders’ girl, has seen it. She was watering the cows when it shot up out of the deep water with a splash, and shook itself like a dog. She had distinctly heard the jingling of the scales in its mane.
And Ole, the wheelwright, too.
“Such a head!” he had said. “As big as a calf’s! And the skin round the corners of its mouth all in great, thick folds!” As to its eyes, he had said they were yellow like those of a hare.
He must remember to tell that to the newspaper-man.
At that moment he hears a warning whistle, the signal to stop and remain where he is, so as not to spoil possible chances by his sudden appearance.