A R E L O W 87 



where I could perhaps grab the trout as 

 soon as he showed signs of exhaustion. 

 But no sooner had I changed my posi- 

 tion, and was standing knee-deep on 

 the opposite side, than the great wheel 

 began to groan and creak, and a huge 

 volume of water shot over it, falling on 

 the very spot that I had just vacated. 



For a moment I caught a glimpse of 

 my old enemy, and thanked heaven that 

 his face now wore a disappointed scowl. 



The little nine-foot rod was tried to 

 its utmost, as I headed the fish back to 

 the pool, but it did its work well. Half 

 exhausted, my captive now glided this 

 way and that in the deep water. He had 

 lost the pluck and energy of the first 

 stages of the fight, but was still strong 

 and enduring. The whirring of the reel, 

 however, soon came in fitful snatches, 

 as if in unison with the failing gasps of 

 the dying fish. Slowly he rose to the 

 surface, dipped again in one last effort 



