We were chums long before he went to St. Dunstan's, and I never doubted that, so far as was humanly possible, he would overcome his war disability. But when he wrote suggesting that for a week we might fish together his Scottish trout stream I wondered. True, he would doubtless retain his old skill in casting, and his sensitive touch would hold good. But surely other difficulties would prove insurmountable.
Rain had been falling and the sky was dull when we set out on the adventure. The bridge across the stream had been partially washed away in spate, and there was an
what remained of the bridge. When ugly hiatus between the bank and T hung back to guide him he gaily waved a "Carry on," and, using his hands and feet as eyes, he made the crossing with moxo ease than I. That was the first lesson.
Text read from the printed page and cleaned; old type leaves the occasional error.