20 SALMON FISHING 



very toes, in the dark depth gurgling in the lee of 

 the perilous jetty. There he rested. To keep in 

 touch with him, I had to hold the rod straight up. 

 Sometimes, as it moved slightly, or as I did, the taut 

 line brushed my face. For many minutes the fish 

 lay still. How long was this to go on ? The query 

 was not without dire suggestiveness. While the 

 salmon sulked, I realised, I should, unless I took 

 action, be imprisoned on the demn\l damp, cold, 

 uncomfortable Dee. There was no one looking. I 

 would make a bolt for freedom. The ledge of rock 

 was so narrow and so scraggy that I had had much 

 difficulty in walking over it when comparatively 

 unencumbered; but it was just possible that if I 

 ran in bold long bounds fortune would favour my 

 footsteps. Holding the rod so that the winch would 

 be free to act, cautiously I wheeled right-about- 

 face, and made for the shore in haste. When I was 

 half the way to safety the salmon turned tail and 

 fled, and of course my risky foothold failed. The 

 fish was going down-stream, and keeping well in 

 towards our own side of the river; which, in water 

 much deeper than myself could measure, helped me 

 to keep afloat and to gain a footing. There was 

 now no lack of liveliness in the proceedings. The 

 line whizzed hither and thither through the broad 

 flood ; it was wagged in violent jerks from side to 

 side; the salmon leapt again and again, and his 

 splashings were heard above the breeze. Suddenly, 

 at a bend of the tree-fringed bank, I came within 

 sight of the Highlandman and my host. In the 



