LINES IN PLEASANT PLACES 



quarter of an hour's sport, and there we were, the 

 dangers of the stream left behind, the fish quietly 

 circling in easy courses in the slack water, Knut ready 

 with his gaff on his little platform, and I, cocksure of 

 the fish, standing on the round rock. To the left was 

 water that in the dusk seemed to be deep and black, 

 and as all along this side the water was deep close in, 

 I concluded that all was safe. The fish was coming 

 quietly in, and was not two yards from the gaff, when 

 it made a sudden dart to the left into this dark water 

 close to the rocks, and in a very short time I realised 

 that he had hung himself up. 



Getting as quickly as possible into the boat again, 

 we moved slowly out to the impediment, in the hope of 

 its being nothing more than a rock which could be 

 cleared ; but on looking down I saw that the bottom 

 had been a regular trap for sunken logs, and as I looked 

 down into the water I saw the fish, a silvery, clean-run 

 fellow of about 8 lb., fighting his hardest at the end 

 of the line, which sawed and sawed until it parted. 

 I recovered most of the cast, but the fish had got away 

 with my bonny Jock Scott and the last strand. This 

 was very sickening, for we might have had a nice bag 

 to take home ; but it was not to be, and in somewhat 

 subdued spirits we fastened up the boat, got our bag- 

 gage together, and walked homeward. Still, it was a 

 typical experience of casting from a boat, and Knut 

 and myself had the pleasure of carrying home in the 

 net, I holding the handle and he the rim, a salmon of 

 13 lb., and grilse of 4 lb., 3$ lb., and 3 lb. 



This, I may say, was the day when I hooked and 

 played fifteen fish, of which only five were caught. I 

 dreamed about that fraudulent dark water and its 

 hidden logs, and in the searching sunlight of the next 

 day went over to examine. It was most artful of the 



