FISHING AS A SPORT 



The angler begins to speculate; he may have hooked 

 the traditional anvil or ploughshare (every Irish guide 

 knows a man who once landed something of the sort); 

 what is far more reasonable to suppose is that he has 

 hooked a powerful and wily salmon which, unless closely 

 looked after, may lie still till it has chafed the gut-line 

 through against the stones. Desperate at the bare 

 thought of losing a possible forty-five pounder, he nerves 

 himself once more to the effort and, this time, the fish 

 allows itself to be dislodged and drawn into mid-stream ; 

 then, with new life, endeavours to spurt off up the river 

 again. But, taking in the line, a little now and a little 

 then, " putting the strain on " whenever possible, the 

 angler at last brings the monster within reach of the gaff 

 if he does not actually land the catch, as his sports- 

 man's amour propre bids him at least try to do. 



Even over the gaffing there will often be a keen 

 struggle, for the fish has a trick of being just an inch or 

 two beyond the reach of the hook, and the hapless keeper 

 or other person to whom falls the duty of manipulating 

 it, discovers that he can only do so by throwing one half 

 of his body over the stream at the risk of finding the 

 other half over-balanced by it. When he has at last 

 succeeded in getting the gaff under the fish, he strikes 

 swiftly up, fixing the hook behind one of the breast fins, 

 or, if possible, under the gills ; and then, by means of 

 his feet, wriggles back and back till he and his struggling 

 prey roll over one another to a safe part of the bank, as 

 likely as not entangling themselves in the anglers line 

 in so doing. 



80 



