Fisbing the Pool 113 



go back without quite reaching it or moving the 

 surface of the water. A rest and change of flies 

 availed nothing with this fish, but after a time, as 

 the fly was very near where he had come from, I 

 noticed a portly form emerging from the obscure 

 depths farther under the bridge. He came on 

 with a deliberate dignity fitting to his bulk, 

 opened his mouth as he approached the fly, slowly 

 closed his jaws on it, and quietly started with it 

 back toward his residence. Though I gave him 

 a good pull at once, he continued his deliberate 

 progress until out of sight, a couple of yards per- 

 haps, and then realizing he was in trouble, quickly 

 threw off his air of leisurely superiority. A long 

 struggle ensued, during which I succeeded in get- 

 ting my rod with a somewhat disabled reel under 

 the bridge to the lower side, where the salmon 

 had gone. He was lost when thoroughly ex- 

 hausted, by the idiotic conduct of an angler in a 

 canoe, to whom I offered the fish if he would gaff 

 him, and who tried, despite my entreaties, to haul 

 him up-stream by the line, until the weakened 

 hold gave way, and fish and angler went safely 

 down-stream, leaving me securely perched on the 

 bridge, lamenting what I still consider the great 

 calamity of my fishing career. 



