TWEED SALMON FISHING. 273 



termination, and we were just shoving off to try our fortune once 

 more, when right out in mid stream I saw the rise of a fish greatly 

 exceeding in size anything we had seen before. Jimmie declared 

 his belief that it was as big as a " coo," and after an extra careful 

 examination of my cast I put up a Dusty Miller, in the hope of 

 tempting the huge salmon. But Dusty Millers were not apparently 

 in his line ; he would not move, and we retired discomfited, only to 

 return to the assault, however, with a Silver Doctor. 



It was a moment of almost painful interest when the new fly 

 dwelt temptingly over the spot where the huge tail had last been 

 visible, and Jimmie's eyes seemed jumping out of their sockets. 

 Then there was a heavy swirl in the brown water, the line slowly 

 tightened, and I was into a real heavy salmon such a fish as one 

 gets a chance of perhaps once or twice in a lifetime. Down he 

 sank into the depths, and secure in his great strength, took no 

 notice of the vicious " strike'' with which I drove the hook into his 

 jaw, or for some minutes of the heavy pressure I immediately 

 brought to bear on him with the powerful Scotch rod. There he 

 lay, some ten or twelve feet beneath the surface, the line humming 

 with the strain, the good greenheart bending double; Jimmie and 

 I, with our hearts in our mouths, awaiting his first move. 



It came with a vengeance ; slowly at first, and then more quickly, 

 as if gathering way, he began to travel against the stream, until his 

 progress became a mad and irresistible rush, with which Jimmie's 

 oars had no chance. 120 yards of line had been taken off my reel, 

 when at last he came to the top of the water with a mighty roll, 

 and turning, shot off across and down the pool. Then came the 

 disastrous finish. He had been on rather over twenty minutes, 

 when, in the middle of another grand rush, the fly came away, the 



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