SALMON ANGLING IN EBELAND. 227 



impeded his frantic efforts to reach the pool before the flood, which 

 could be seen too plainly not a hundred yards above, speeding 

 towards us with ruffled crest and angry voice. Pat still kept the 

 lead by a few strides, intent only on hurrying on, and unmindful of 

 the old saw, "look before you leap," he set his foot on a more than 

 ordinarily soft part of the bog, and at the next bound was fairly 

 planted deep at his waistcoat pocket. Plunging desperately forward, 

 he gained a momentary footing on a tuft of rushes, lost his vantage 

 ground, and rolled helplessly into the quagmire. His fall broke the 

 light gut of the dropper, which was still firm in the jaw of the fish ; 

 and the line drifted clear of the net as it fell from Pat's hand. A 

 slight bend to the left afforded firmer footing, and in a second I was 

 at the goal. The flood was filling a pool not twenty yards from the 

 one at which I stood again and again the fly swept across the 

 surface. " What, not another ere it comes ?" Once more the line 

 flew over the lower part of the lodge a dull ruffle followed. A 

 salmon ! a salmon ! Huzza! I have him. 



On rushed the flood carrying all before it. The strong fish breasted 

 it for a few seconds, but, impeded by the line, shot rapidly round 

 and darted down the torrent like an arrow. To give line was to 

 lose him ; for brushwood, rushes, and turf sods were whirling along 

 in wild disorder, thick as leaves in June. The narrow course of the 

 brook, its numerous abrupt turnings, and the luxuriant growth of 

 heath and whin that fringed its banks, made it a work of sufficient 

 difficulty to keep the line clear, short as it was, so I pelted full tilt 

 over bog, rock, and heath as well as I could. Fast and furious grew 

 the race 'twas for life or death. Of Pat I thought not ^nay, for 

 the time, forgot that such a person ever existed. 



Splash, splash, splash. Can it be the echo of my own steps ? Had 

 existence depended on it, I could not have avoided turning nervously 

 in the direction of the sound ; and what a sight met my eyes ! Minus 

 his hat and boots, the big trout flourished in one hand, and the net 

 brandished in the other, his whole person dripping from the late 

 immersion, and his face a bright Modena tint from the colour of the 

 bog, Pat sped like a gallant knight to the rescue, 



Q 2 



