GOING THROUGH A COURSE OF SPROUTS. 227 



turned and ran up the river. Then he sulked. Next he leaped 

 and dove, swimming rapidly up stream to form a bight in my 

 line. But, finding all his tricky efforts useless, he started with 

 great speed down the river, and I brought him to gaif half a 

 mile below where I had hooked him. He weighed within a 

 pound of as much as the first one. 



Again I retraced my steps to the head of the pool, to where 

 a long east would send the fly beyond a submerged rock in 

 the centre of the current, below which salmon appeared to 

 rest preparatory to ascending a lengthy rapid which carried 

 them to the great pool below the falls. Several times I de- 

 livered my fly so as to sweep the current and eddy without 

 a salmon putting in an appearance. I therefore walked along 

 the shore, casting out as far as I could on the rapid stream, 

 and every time the fly floated round to the edge of the eddy 

 at the side I took one step down stream and cast again, so as 

 to fish over all the ground on my side of the river. I had 

 not fished more than a quarter of a mile, when, in response to 

 my feathery invitation, a very large silvery fish sparkled in 

 the air before me ! I admired him with intense interest ; and, 

 after a short contest, he came up persuasively, seeming to 

 say, " I'll land without the gaif." Thus he played off and on 

 shore, in the air and in the water, until I realized a new sen- 

 sation, and began to regard him as a charming pet. I saw 

 that he was a very large fresh-run salmon, and much more 

 tractable than either of the two which came to gaff. Pres- 

 ently he slackened speed, and even stopped to rub his nose 

 against a rock, and perhaps try to spring the hook out ; but 

 these were merely casual experiments to whet his ingenuity, 

 while on his way back to the sea, to rid himself of hooks and 

 stake-nets. By-and-by, after he had led me about half a mile, 

 sometimes fast and at other times slow, as suited his fancy, 

 making me appear very like, though less artistic, perhaps, 

 than Pat with a shillelah in one hand, his hat placed akimbo, 

 and with his other hand holding a rope fastened to a pig's 

 leg, the pig too large for Pat to control. About that time I 



