ON RIVERS 75 



checked him. In the middle of the river there is a 

 bank of gravel, over the broad summit of which only 

 half a foot or so of water was rippling. When he 

 reached the edge of the gravel the fish paused. 



" How I wish I could see him ! " said my pretty 

 comrade. 



We were standing low on the bank, and the 

 water at our feet was deep : even if I coaxed the fish 

 close in, he might not be visible from where we 

 stood. 



"Well, 1 ' I answered, "just step up to the top of 

 the bank. From there you may see him when he 

 comes in." 



The top of the bank was about nine feet above 

 us. Miss Winsome did as I had suggested. Slowly 

 the fish came in ; but I felt no sign of weakening. 

 ... It must have been nearly a quarter of an hour 

 since he took the fly ? . . . Certainly, I think I saw 

 his tail, which wasn't bigger than would beseem a 

 two-pounder. Yet . . . ? That's a powerful strain 

 he puts on at times ! . . . ? 



Ruminating thus, I felt impelled to follow Miss 

 Winsome to the top of the bank. Curiosity was 

 awake. . . . Whizz ! He was off again in a 

 slanting direction across stream and down. I had 

 to run some yards. When at length the fish came 

 in again we could see him from our eminence. He 

 was a disturbing apparition. I had been wrong 

 about the tail. It was no trout that we had hooked. 

 It was a salmon. He was a ten-pounder apparently. 



Miss Winsome clapped her hands and danced a 



