126 DAYS AND NIGHTS OF SALMON FISHING 



over the salmon, which was evidently a very large 

 one. 



In the course of an hour I made no impression 

 upon him at all, my whole aim being to avoid a 

 break. I never engaged with a more subtle animal. 

 Sometimes he would make the tour of all the neigh- 

 bouring stones, where he endeavoured, no doubt, to 

 rub the hook out of his mouth ; then he would 

 take a long rest, as if he cared nothing about it. 

 From the cause I have mentioned my tackle was 

 always in disorder, which kept me in great appre- 

 hension. Thus the matter went on for nearly two 

 hours more, still with a very dubious result. At 

 length a stone being thrown in by my attendant at 

 a spot where I could follow along the bank, he put 

 his head down the river peremptorily, and went 

 off like a rocket. I ran with him down the channel, 

 as he skimmed through the shallows and darted 

 through the rough gorges, in evident danger, as I 

 was, of losing him every moment. At length he 

 fairly exhausted himself, and I was able to urge 

 him to a sand bank, and lay him on his broadside. 



The sand bank, however, had a few inches of 

 water running over it, but not sufficient to cover 

 the fish. My attendant, Philip Garrat, had the tact 

 to place himself between the deep water and the 

 fish. Then came the struggle. A Wiltshire novice, 

 like the said Philip, could not hold a live salmon with 

 his hands, so he tried to kick him forward on the 

 dry channel. All this time I hallooed stoutly to 

 him to take care of the line. My anxiety was 

 extreme ; for the fish was sometimes able to place 



