Salmon Fishing. 187 



of the stream, about thirty stalwart quarrymen 

 jumped out of the trucks, dashed down the 

 bank, and surrounded me. At first little was 

 said by them. They stared now at me, and 

 now at the broken rod ; then one of the more 

 demonstrative came so close to the water, that 

 the tired fish caught sight of him, and flew back 

 to the place where I first hooked him. To 

 remonstrate except in Welsh, which was beyond 

 me, I well knew to be of no use. Patient as the 

 pauper I have hitherto described, who sat watch- 

 ing his float all the day long, I managed to curb 

 all outward shew of feeling, and went on quietly 

 winding up the line, and gradually coaxing the 

 salmon down the stream again. The quarryman 

 seeing me thus unmoved came closer and closer 

 to where I was standing, and evidently meant 

 (in ignorant good-nature perhaps) to bear a 

 hand by seizing hold of the line, and dragging 

 poor salmo ashore. Flesh and blood could 

 stand it no longer ; and I fairly roared at him, 

 whether he understood me or not, to keep his 



