TJie Land of the Winanishe 



have no more of your flies. Another such 

 experience will make him a marked mis- 

 anthrope all summer. 



When you strike, it must be hard, for 

 their mouths are hard ; but, as in salmon- 

 fishing, no rule can be laid down beyond 

 the golden one to keep a taut line. Though 

 no fish are visible, you cast right and left. 

 Presently, while quietly reeling in an ex- 

 cess of line, down goes the rod-tip with a 

 smart jerk ; there is a terribly long pause 

 of about half a second, then the reel sings, 

 and thirty yards off a silver bar flashes 

 through the air three or four times in 

 quick succession, for it is a fresh-run fish 

 hooked in a tender spot. You recover a 

 little line, then out it goes again with more 

 pyrotechnics. At the end of ten or fifteen 

 minutes he comes in meekly, with an occa- 

 sional remonstrance, and you think it time 

 for the net. The leader shows above water, 

 and the rod curves into a semicircle ; but 

 no strain you can put on raises the fish 

 farther, which circles slowly around. A 

 sudden dash under your feet drags the rod- 

 tip under water, but is foiled by a quick 

 turn of the canoe. Then a telegraphic cir- 

 cuit seems to have been established through 

 your tired arms to your spine. The fish 

 is standing on his head, worrying the fly 

 6 4 



