204 AUTUMN ANGLING 



the rough sharp stream was fished down till it 

 deepened and steadied, when a heavy fish followed 

 the fly with one of those sweeping rolls deemed by 

 many knowing anglers a hint that in their case 

 rest time between the casts is superfluous cere- 

 mony. Instantly clapping the fly again before the 

 salmon's nose, a furious rush and tightened line 

 proved that I had read him right. He never 

 sulked nor parleyed, but fought bravely on, doing 

 his best to break his chain. A game customer 

 like this is soon subdued, and in less than twenty 

 minutes a 12|-lb. harvest fish lay gasping on the 

 grass. During the struggle I twice saw its paired 

 neighbour feeding in mid stream; and whenever I 

 had cut the hook from the dead fish's jaw, I offered 

 it to the lively relict in the pool. It came at 

 once, but hooked so tenderly that one dash parted 

 the slight catch. 



Although I did not land a fish, the final day of 

 the Lyon has left as pleasing reminiscences as any 

 of its predecessors. A balmy morning and dry 

 road tempted me to steal "cannily" up the glen on 

 foot, more to enjoy a peaceful farewell of the now 



