240 WILD LIFE AND THE CAMERA 



the water, and the fly vanished ; surely this could 

 not be my big friend, he would never be so gentle, 

 for the line was leading slowly toward where I 

 stood, and I reeled in carefully, when, ye gods and 

 little fishes, how suddenly the scene changed ! The 

 line fairly flew through the water. Check it ! Why 

 I had not the slightest power to do so, and in an 

 instant, at the end of a hundred and fifty feet of 

 line, out leaped my big friend and thud, how the 

 water splashed when the big heavy body struck it 

 as he fell full length. Would that fly hold ? Had 

 I line enough ? Would the light greenheart grilse- 

 rod that I was using stand the strain ? Would the 

 fish leave the pool and go down the falls ? These 

 and a hundred other questions raced through my 

 mind as I played the fish. Sometimes for many 

 minutes he would sulk at the bottom of the pool, 

 and it seemed surely as though I was fast to a 

 rock. Then again he would rush with frantic 

 speed down toward the falls and I had, at all cost, 

 to turn him by straining the rod to its limit. The 

 twilight was rapidly giving way to the approaching 

 night and the question of gaffing was becoming 

 more and more difficult. Nine times I brought 

 that fish close to the guide, but with the uncertain 

 light he was unable to see well enough to use the 

 gaff with accuracy ; each time he moved the fish 

 would start out with renewed vigour, and each 

 time I thought he would surely get away, but still 

 the hook held, and at last when I brought him close 

 to the guide, I raised him slowly and steadily until 

 the dorsal fin was visible, and instantly the gaff was 

 struck and the guide, raising the big fish clear of 



