THE LAST STKUGGLE. 309 



But my advice was disregarded ; the sailor made a plunge 

 at the fish with the gaff as if it had been a harpoon, 

 scratched the salmon's side, and all my work was again 

 before me. The drawing of blood instilled new vitality 

 into the fish's veins, and the previously vanquished foe was 

 running out line as if he had been fresh struck. I could 

 not be angry ; when a novice I had done likewise, and, no 

 doubt, my attendant had just made his virgin effort. In 

 fact, I could not help being amused at his astonished coun- 

 tenance, for, doubtless, he had already counted the fish as 

 safe. This last struggle did not continue long ; again I 

 got him in shoal water, when, having cautioned and in- 

 structed my excited attendant as far as words could avail, 

 he made a second effort, and that correctly. Twelve pounds 

 was the weight of this noble salmon, and often have I found 

 that those of this size are more game and afford a harder 

 fight than larger fish. The strain on your rod is not so 

 severe or the contest so long as with a heavier antagonist, 

 but the activity and energy displayed are greater. 



Having overhauled my tackle and lit a weed as reward 

 for my prowess, I again ascended to the top of the pool 

 and commenced afresh ; visions of the first fish I rose, 

 which I felt convinced was a formidable one, inducing me 

 to this course. My leader had now got straightened, from 

 the action of the water and the strain it had so lately suc- 

 cessfully withstood. To get my line clear away to the 

 requisite length I threw across the surging portion of the 

 stream and dipped my tip, to prevent any unnecessary delay 

 when I reached my friend's ambush; a couple of casts 

 brought me to the spot, and with careful steady hand and 



