n6 THE FINE ART OF FISHING 



covering the leeward semi-circle fifteen or twenty times, 

 my inexperience fancied that region tested of salmon; 

 no trout or bass fisherman would have bothered with it 

 longer; but since Peter made no sign I kept on casting. 

 When the inevitable slackness of interest had drawn my 

 eyes to the two canoes by the outlet, the occupants of 

 which were switching away as industriously as my- 

 self, something happened and heart came into mouth 

 with a leap; for as the flies jiggled in over the tossing 

 water there was a boil and swirl by the dropper, not 

 twenty-five feet away, and a simultaneous exclamation 

 from behind: 'Don't leave it; cast again. Dat excite 

 him when de fly come again.' 



"Shortening the cast, I sent the flies hastily and 

 awkwardly ten feet beyond the danger signal. Hardly 

 had they begun to come in when there was a sudden 

 commotion; an instinctive 'strike' met a line taut and 

 suddenly endowed with life; and the little rod bowed 

 its acknowledgments at the meeting. 



"First came a mad rush to one side, and after giving 

 the mysterious visitor all the line that had been stripped 

 with the left hand, I snubbed him, in order to have a 

 feel of him. The result was immediate and surprising. 

 Three feet into the air came a twenty-inch bow of sil- 

 ver, flashing in the morning sun as the salmon tried to 

 shake himself free. Down went the tip, but, with the 

 training of the black bass fisherman, I tried to cant 

 him to one side and upset him before he could shake 

 himself. 



" 'Don't do dat!' called watchful Peter. 'De sal- 

 mon mout' is tender. You can't treat him lak black 



