232 THE HALCYON IN CANADA. 



bowlder as the fish worked this way or that about 

 the pool, peering into the water to catch a glimpse 

 of him, for he had begun to yield a little to the 

 steady strain that was kept upon him. Presently I 

 saw a shadowy, unsubstantial something just emerge 

 from the black depths, then vanish. Then I saw it 

 again, and this time the huge proportions of the fish 

 were faintly outlined by the white facings of his 

 fins. The sketch lasted but a twinkling ; it was only 

 a flitting shadow upon a darker background, but it 

 gave me the profoundest Ike Walton thrill I ever ex- 

 perienced. I had been a fisher from my earliest boy- 

 hood. I came from a race of fishers ; trout-streams 

 gurgled about the roots of the family tree, and there 

 was a long accumulated and transmitted tendency 

 and desire in me that that sight gratified. I did not 

 wish the pole in my own hands ; there was quite 

 enough electricity overflowing from it and filling the 

 air for me. The fish yielded more and more to the 

 relentless pole, till, in about fifteen minutes from the 

 time he was struck, he came to the surface, then 

 made a little whirlpool where he disappeared again. 

 But presently he was up a second time and lashing 

 the water into foam as the angler led him toward the 

 rock upon which I was perched net in hand. As I 

 reached toward him, down he went again, and, taking 

 another circle of the pool, came up still more ex- 

 hausted, when, between his paroxysms, I carefully 

 fan the net over him and lifted him ashore, amid, 

 it is needless to say, the wildest enthusiasm of th 



