ON RIVERS 77 



Winsome's hands, bent ominously ; but, remembering 

 instructions just in time, she allowed the line to run, 

 and our hold on the fish felt sound when she gave 

 the weapon back. 



A little farther down there is a quick bend in the 

 river. Behind the turn the water on our side, 

 excepting in time of flood, is shallow and quiet. 

 By this bay we found ourselves at length. The 

 steely spring sunshine aflash on his sides, the salmon 

 was cruising in shallow water on yellow sand. He 

 had been somewhat tamed in the course of his 

 assisted passage down the torrent ; but he was still 

 agile. 



Miss Winsome, I observed, was taking off her fur 

 jacket. She announced that she was going into the 

 river whenever the salmon settled down. . . . She 

 was as good as her word. Into the water she 

 stepped as gracefully as if she were entering a 

 minuet. Before I had recovered from my astonish- 

 ment she had turned and was handing to me the 

 salmon. 



If this incident were unique, one would not on the 

 strength of it venture any suggestion as to flies or 

 tackle ; but it is not unique. Four times that spring 

 we caught a salmon on a trout fly, a March Brown. 

 I have since heard, from a friend who has fished on 

 nearly every river in Scotland and many a river 

 elsewhere, that such good fortune is not uncommon. 

 This suggests a question. Why, when we know 

 that slightly thick gut will scare a trout, should we 

 assume that the thickest gut will not scare a salmon ? 



