MY FIRST TWEED SALMON 57 



John Bright, George Rooper, and other anglers whom 

 he had piloted to victory a charming method of rub- 

 bing the salt into your smarts. 



The dogcart was to be at the head of the dub at five, 

 and the rumble of its wheels had been heard while we 

 were yet about fifty yards from the landing place on 

 the upward course, fishing deep, and letting the long 

 line work slowly round to its farthest limit in the wake. 

 There were no more puns now ; I freely admit that I 

 was silent ay, depressed. Jamie, too, was disap- 

 pointed ; a couple of spectators on the bank were also 

 practising the silence of sympathy. The game was up, 

 and nothing need be said. 



Ah ! what a magnificent swirl. Deep down went the 

 fish, as up went the rod, and, backache and despon- 

 dency vanishing, I held him hard. The first dash of 

 the fish told me an unexpected and alarming bit of 

 news. The confounded winch would not run out with 

 the salmon, and I had to ease out line with the left 

 hand and keep the big rod raised with the right. Luckily 

 the winch worked after a fashion when reeled in, and 

 if the single gut at the end of the twisted cast would 

 hold all might be well. And behold it did hold. The 

 fish was heavy, as everyone saw from the first, and it 

 behaved fairly well. One ugly rush, which was the 

 critical point of the battle, passed without accident, 

 and the salmon was revealed a silvery beauty that 

 was more than ever your heart's desire. Easy and firm 

 was the motto now. The fish was at last safe in Jamie's 

 net, and if it was beaten so was I, thanks to the 

 treacherous reel. The prize was a baggit of 22 lb., as 

 bright as a spring fish, and perfectly shaped. 



