SALMON OF THE AWE. 95 



more for occupation than for anything else, yielding me no response — 

 and, indeed, it was all I expected — I ate my luncheon, lit my pipe, 

 and proceeded once more to my vantage spot. There, sure enough, 

 was the big fish, undisturbed and immutable. Unable to restrain my 

 impatience, I sent a fly (the same one that had accounted for the two 

 other fish) on its errand of quest. But there was no movement, no 

 reply, nor was there to two other changes of fly I put over him. Having 

 nowhere else to fish, and being disinclined to try the Yellow Pool again, 

 as I felt sure it would be hopeless, I sat me down to cogitate and look 

 over my fly box. The day had become sultry and heavy, and clouds 

 had been rolling up, and suddenly there broke a regular deluge of rain, 

 turning the pool into a seething mass of big drops. Instinctively I ran 

 for shelter under the bridge, but before I reached it changed my mind 

 and determined to try once more for the big one in the heavy rainstorm. 

 Hastily putting on a Thunder and Lightning two sizes larger, I sent 

 him out, braving the ducking I was undergoing. The first fly that reached 

 the spot was answered by a fine head and tail rise, and I was fast in the 

 big one. For a short time he played sulkily, either through not grasping 

 the situation or through trying to induce me to believe him to be a small 

 one. But I was not to be deluded, and, as he kept edging up into the 

 big water coming down the centre arch of the railway bridge, I let him 

 have a bit of the butt of my 18 ft. Castleconnell. But, with a savage shake 

 of his head and strong whisk of his broad tail, he was now thoroughly 

 aroused, and, despite all I could do, up he went, carefully threading 

 the central arch and working up for all he was worth into the heavy 

 water round the corner. My running line was thus against the buttress, 

 but, despite the imminent danger of being cut, there was nothing to 

 do but give him " beans." Fortunately for me my lucky star was in 

 the ascendant. A convenient patch of moss between the courses of 

 the bricks saved my line from the grinding process ; the strain of my 

 supple rod, combined with the weight of the water, did the trick. I 

 felt him yield, reeled up as hard as I could, but, as he turned tail and 

 came down (fortunately for me through the same arch), I soon had to 

 give up reeling in in order to haul in the line by hand to keep touch 

 with him in his downward rush. Steadying the line when he got 

 ahead of me, I felt he was still on. Ten minutes of the fight against 



