A FIRST SPRINGER AND SOME OTHERS 83 



mastery in the twinkling of an eye, with the fish run- 

 ning smartly and pulling hard. Meanwhile, the head 

 boatman winched up the other lines and gave me a fair 

 field of action. The fish was evidently not enamoured 

 of that delicate sand eel, for there was a good deal of 

 head shaking for a few minutes. Presently the boat 

 touched shore, and I had by then discovered that the 

 little rod was as good as an iS-footer, and more power- 

 ful in holding a salmon than many of full length which 

 I have used. The fight was a good one, though I stuck 

 to my policy of a pound per minute, and it was good 

 to know that it was a clean fish. This was my first 

 springer, and the poor chap had been badly mutilated 

 by a seal in the sea not many days ago, yet they told 

 me that it is no uncommon thing to have salmon so 

 wounded taking freely. 



Once more on board our lugger, we zigzagged on our 

 course, the men pulling with regular stroke, and though 

 they row sturdily the boat is merely held, and drops 

 down rather than advances. If salmon are not in the 

 humour harling presents the elements of monotony, and 

 the wise plan seems to me not to think of the rods, nor 

 look at them, nor wonder which will be first in action. 

 Such were my thoughts, and I laid out a line of thought 

 as a corrective. Thud, thud, go the oars, steadily nod- 

 ding by the movement of the waves go the rod tops. 

 Aye, hours of this would suggest a certain sameness, 

 probably. And then came the startling moment that 

 is so delicious, the jump of the flat pebble off the line 

 pulled out upon the bottom boards, the rattle of the 

 check, the strong curve of the rod. It all takes place 

 in a swift moment. You are on your feet and playing 

 your fish as if by instinct. The Jock Scott had attracted 

 this fish, and the familiar process was followed the 

 stepping ashore, the retreat up the bank backwards, 



