38 THE SALMON 



nick' of time — and soon his runs become shorter and 

 shorter — there is an occasional slow wave of a broad 

 tail on the surface, and ' Mentor ' takes his stand on 

 a large flat rock, where there is a still deep back- 

 water, and takes the cork off the gaff. A few moments 

 later the fish turns on his side, apparently almost life- 

 less, and is slowly towed towards the gaff. The vic- 

 tory seems won, and the proud and happy sportsman 

 is already mentally calculating the weight of his 

 prize at something varying from a half to a third 

 more than the steelyard will record later — yet if he 

 knew ! the next few minutes are the most perilous 

 of the whole contest. There is ' life in the old dog- 

 yet,' the hold is dangerously worn with the long and 

 not very scientific fight, and that log-like form is good 

 for at least one more wriggle, dash and jump, if he 

 catches sight of the gaff and its wielder. But I 

 cannot find it in my heart to rob my imaginary 

 sportsman of his success. I like to bring down the 

 curtain with united hands and ' Bless you, my chil- 

 dren.' There is a quick stroke of the gaff and the 

 fish is gasping on the stones. What matter if 

 he be a trifle red, and only turn the scale at eight 

 pounds. He is a 'fish,' and the proud and happy 

 victor is mentally vowing that his first salmon shall 

 not be his last, while ' Mentor ' shall not lack the re- 



