A RUN OF LUCK 235 



clambered with my load over the stile, and plodded 

 across a meadow to the pool. It was narrow and deep, 

 with a strong stream running between high banks. 

 The wading was awkward, and the switch cast was 

 imperative. I did not expect a rise here, but I got it 

 with the Thunder and Lightning, just as out of the tail 

 of my eye I caught sight of the river-watcher with his 

 hands uplifted in astonishment over my three fish. I 

 had enough to do this time. The salmon was both 

 strong and wild, the stream was heavy, and the light 

 was failing. Once I had to keep the fish out of the 

 rapids by main force. Had it not been for Hughie's 

 fortunate arrival, I do not think that sixteen-pounder 

 would have been mine ; but he gaffed it out for me 

 almost in the darkness, and I went home elated. Only 

 once before within his memory had four fish been killed 

 on that water in a day. 



One more salmon fell to my lot another sixteen- 

 pounder which gave me a rare fight on the next 

 evening. I gaffed it only just in time, as it was quite 

 dusk before it was beaten. After this we had frosts 

 every night ; the river fell very quickly, and I caught 

 nothing more, though I lost a small fish on the 

 Saturday just at the gaffs point. Still, I feel that with 

 eleven salmon in three weeks I had my share of good 

 fortune. Bearing in mind the badness of the season, 

 the scarcity of fish, and the consistent ill-luck of other 

 anglers much more expert than myself, I can only 

 endorse Hughie's oft-repeated comment : " Well, you 

 are the lucky angler, whatever." 



