352 PRAIRIE AND FORES1. 



fisherman, to hide your blushes ; any apologies which 

 are due I freely tender ; remember the aggravation I 

 had suffered), and boldly stalked into the water, a 

 short way above where my tormentor domiciled. In 

 working my way down, I killed several of the smaller 

 gentry, but with these I dealt most cavalierly, they 

 being far beneath my present ambition. At length 

 I reached the very stone on which I stood in the 

 morning, and, with nervous, anxious eye, I made my 

 cast. Slowly the bait swung round, and described 

 an arc of a circle to the charmed spot. A rush, a dash 

 and a splash, and away flew my line, the reel dis- 

 coursing sweetest melody (perhaps not sweetest, for 

 the music of the deep-mouthed pack deserves the 

 superlative degree), and I had my gallant tormentor 

 fast. Every effort that ever was successfully perpe- 

 trated by fish was put in play. Down and up the 

 stream he frantically rushed ; first to one side, then 

 the other, but all without avail. Ten minutes of 

 these futile efforts told a tale, and the shortened and 

 less vigorous exertions proclaimed an early approach 

 to the finish. Carefully I backed out, step by step, 

 feeling cautiously the inequalities of the ground, till 

 I stood on terra firma. My attendant permitted ex- 

 citement to cause him to act too precipitously, and 

 the splash of the net instilled fresh vigour into my 

 victim's now exhausted frame. Game to the . last, 

 another effort was made for life, and with an impetuous 

 rush he again started for his time-honoured, watery 

 haunts. With a nervous grasp on my rod, I was 

 prepared to give him line ; but imagine my astonish- 

 ment when the slack returned to my hand, minus 

 hooks and leader ! The swivel had parted, one I had 



