190 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



of all our trouble. He was foul hooked. In a 

 few moments Keay had the gaff into him, and we 

 stood in the semi-darkness surveying a thirty-four- 

 pounder that filled us all with hopeless disappoint- 

 ment. The hook was firmly buried in the skin of 

 the shoulder of the left fore-fin, and under such 

 circumstances it was really a wonder I had killed 

 him at all. If he had escaped I feel sure I should 

 have imagined I had lost a sixty-pounder. At any 

 rate he had nearly killed me. I was shivering 

 with cold and quite exhausted, for I had fought, 

 with the salmon continuously running, sulking, 

 and boring, from a quarter to two till a quarter to 

 eight, and such work, even to a young man in the 

 prime of life, is a pretty severe physical strain. 

 Anyway, I shall never forget what dear old Jimmy 

 always referred to afterwards as " the wild fush." 



