SALMON-FISHING. 77 



nothing. I cast down the useless rod, and dashing at 

 him wrest the gaff from his hand, but it is too late. 

 The huge fins begin to move gently, like a steamer's 

 first motion of her paddles, and he disappears slowly 

 into the deep ! Yes — yes, he is gone ! For a moment 

 I glare at Ole with a bitter hatred. I should like to 

 slay him where he stands, but have no weapon 

 handy, and also doubt how far Norwegian law 

 would justify the proceeding, great as is the pro- 

 vocation. But the fit passes, and a sorrow too deep 

 for words gains possession of me, and I throw away 

 the gaff and sit down, gazing in blank despair at 

 the water. Is it possible ? Is it not a hideous 

 nightmare } But two minutes ago blessed beyond 

 the lot of angling man — on the topmost pinnacle 

 of angling fame ! The practical possessor of the 

 largest salmon ever taken with a rod ! And now, 

 deeper than ever plummet sounded, in the depths 

 of dejection ! Tears might relieve me ; but my 

 sorrow is too great, and I am doubtful how Ole 

 might take it. I look at him again The same 



