182 WANDERINGS AND MEMORIES 



near the bank, even where the water was deep, so 

 we got the boat fixed with her stem out in the 

 river, and here Miller watched in the depths with 

 gaff ready, whilst every time the salmon showed 

 side and a consequent weakening, I tried to swing 

 him with the stream to the gaffing point. At last 

 salmon nature was exhausted, and I worked the 

 vanquished hull across the area of capture. There 

 was a quick plunge of the steel. Miller's broad 

 back shook and heaved, and then there was a crash, 

 and the fisherman measured his length across the 

 seat of the boat. At the same moment the great 

 head and shoulders of the salmon rolled over the 

 edge of the gunwale, and giving itself an extra 

 heave, the fish fell into the boat as the broken gaff 

 fell out of its side. Thus was victory achieved. 

 This was certainly the biggest salmon any of us 

 had seen at Murthly. Our weighing machine being 

 out of order, the fish was not put on the scales until 

 two days afterwards in Malloch's shop — where I 

 had sent it to be cast — and then it turned the scale 

 at 46 lbs., but I think it must have been about 2 lbs. 

 heavier at the time of capture. 



Nearly all salmon-fishing with the fly is alike, 

 and ninety-nine fish out of a hundred behave in 

 exactly the same manner. The small ones have a 

 way of coming to the gaff and the big ones possess 

 a nasty habit of getting off at the last minute. 

 Two big fellows always remain in my memory 

 with some soreness, for in neither case should 

 they have escaped had I possessed an efficient 

 companion on those particular days. I was fishing 

 for sea-trout one cold March day on the lower 

 reaches of the Beauly River, as the guest of Major 



