178 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



" You're over it, Maister John," remarked Hag- 

 gart as I gave a final cast. 



At this moment the rod was nearly torn from my 

 hand, and the reel screamed as a fish took the fly 

 and dashed down-stream to a great pool below. 

 It was possible to follow him, so down we went 

 in one mighty swoop. Then suddenly the fish made 

 for the north bank, whirled upwards to the re- 

 entering angle of the pool, whilst the line sagged 

 badly with this quick manoeuvre. For a moment 

 I thought we had hold of an ordinary fish, and 

 told Haggart to work in-shore so that I could jump 

 out and try to prevent it getting back to the strong 

 current. We had, however, hardly touched the 

 stones when the salmon made a most magnificent 

 rush right across the river, a distance of a hundred and 

 twenty yards. It was all my experienced boatman 

 could do to keep pace with this movement and 

 prevent a complete run-out, and when at the end 

 of the effort the salmon leaped, as they often do, 

 I saw at once that we had hold of something unusual. 

 It was evidently a fish somewhere about 40 Ibs., and 

 shone like silver. 



We now crossed the river as I took in line, and 

 had just got on fighting terms again when once 

 more this gallant fish went straight across the river 

 to the south bank. It was more difficult to hold 

 him this time, as the course taken was slightly up- 

 stream and we had to fight current and fish at the 

 same time. But the good " Malloch " cast and fly 

 held in spite of the unusual strain, and, with a few 

 rounds of line to spare, we crossed and worked up 

 swiftly through the slack water till I was once more 

 opposite my fish and could get some command of 



