ON THE LYON. 199 



unfortunate in this pool, having lost the only fish 

 I ever moved in it. This time, however, a heavy 

 salmon rushed up at the tail of the stream and 

 hooked firm. He made a noble spurt to begin 

 then bored up rapids struck across river sulked, 

 and played all his tricks and vagaries. After an 

 hour's severe play, he managed, in spite of me, to 

 roll over the waterfall into the pool below. Still 

 through this danger I kept him safe, and was in 

 the very act of raising his unresisting head on the 

 gravel when his well-worn hold parted ! With a 

 languid plunge he vanished amid the foam, and I 

 rejoined my companions with a malediction on 

 that " unchancy " pool. 



The account of my mishap whetted our guest's 

 appetite to witness the mysteries of a salmon-run. 

 Each stream and pool to the top of the beat was, 

 however, a failure, not even the excitement of a 

 rise rewarding my labour and his patient watch- 

 ing. On the return I could evidently see that 

 my friend's interest in the sport was gone, and his 

 attention had quite flagged. A graceful bend of 

 the river, or sudden rise of the opposite hill the 

 white clusters of the hazel or coral berries of the 



