SALMON STREAM IN SPATE 45 



of these names writ large as one surveys them, and is not the 

 memory of each one a delight on nights when the path to the salmon 

 pool is deep in snow and the pool itself sleeping beneath its coverlet 

 of ice ? 



This chapter is written, as the title implies, to tell the story of 

 one salmon and one only and somehow that story lingers in the 

 writer's mind with a greater charm than that of many monsters 

 brought to the gravelly beach of the rivers of far-away Labrador or 

 of the seagirt island of Newfoundland. On as fine and fresh a June 

 morning as ever dawned, we sought my guide and I for our fish 

 in the dancing waters, and found, as we expected, most of the pools 

 unfishable : the customary dark streak of fishing water covered with 

 foam bells in many of the pools had changed to a hissing torrent. 

 When we reached the Pet Pool we found the usual casting place 

 running madly as a millrace. Far on the opposite side a goodish 

 long cast for a fifteen-feet rod the river strayed in a backwater 

 against a fallen trunk of what had been a monarch of the forest, 

 a great red pine overthrown by some autumn gale. This bit of 

 water looked in excellent order for a fish, and, as I had but little 

 promising water ahead of me, I determined to give it a thorough 

 good try. 



' A No. 2 Silver Doctor this morning, Tan ? ' 



'Yes, sir; I think that will do.' 



But it did not do. Anglers may say what they like about one 

 fly being as good as another, but in the light of my own experience I 

 will never believe it. After a couple of casts a salmon showed to 

 the deep in the water making a slight swirl. He then refused a 

 Fiery Brown, Jock Scott, Black Dose and Durham Ranger succes- 

 sively. So I changed to a white- winged Admiral, peculiar, I believe, 

 to this part of Canada. My guide, Tan, states that its virtues 

 were discovered and the fly originated by Admiral Stewart, on the 

 Restigouche. However this may be, I proved its merit in this in- 

 stance, and have since done so in many others. It is a particularly 

 useful fly when one happens to be fishing late in the dusk of the 

 veiling, or in muddied waters, or amid floating sawdust, or on some 

 very dark day when sky and water are almost inky in ap|>earance. 

 So soon as my Admiral passed over my friend, whose resting place 

 was at the edge of some half-submerged alders, he came at it savagely 

 and got hooked. He began by jumping, and after some 1 ighly 

 creditable acrobatic feats were over, I had a most exciting quarter of 

 an hour, for the odds against me were very heavy. In the first place, 

 he tried to rush down the rapids, which would have meant a sudden 

 ending to the game, so I had to give him the butt until the rod 

 bent almost double, and risk the verv severe strain on the tackle. 



