A TWEEDS IDE SKETCH 137 



arms, a knack not to be acquired in a moment. I 

 splashed away awkwardly, but at last managed to 

 make a straight, clean cast. There was a slight 

 pull, such as a trout gives in mid-stream under 

 water. I raised the point, and again the reel sang 

 aloud and gleefully as the salmon rushed down the 

 stream farther and faster than the first. It is a 

 very pleasant thing to hook a salmon when you 

 are all alone, as I was then alone with yourself 

 and the Goddess of Fishing. This salmon, just 

 like the other, now came back, and instantly began 

 the old tactics of heavy plunging tugs. But I 

 knew the gut was sound this time, and as I fancied 

 he had risen to the sniggler, I had no anxiety 

 about the tackle holding. One more plunge, and 

 back came the line as before. He was cff. One 

 could have sat down and gnawed the reel. What 

 had gone wrong ? Why, the brute had taken the 

 old fly from the farmhouse and had snapped the 

 loop that attaches the gut. The little loop was 

 still on the fragment of minnow tackle which 

 fastened it to the cast. 



There was no more chance, for there were 



