ii8 THE FINE ART OF FISHING 



his burnished sides sent up old gold flashes through the 

 clear but dark-colored water. 



" 'Keep de butt down/ cautioned my mentor. 'Don't 

 never give him straight rod excep' when he jump, and 

 den put strain on him again right off/ and Peter 

 leaned toward me, almost whispering in his anxiety. 



"There had been considerable strain on him already, 

 judging from the feel of my wrist, but I let him have 

 the full curve, and in a few minutes more this began to 

 take effect. Slowly reeling in and fighting for every 

 yard, the fish was brought within ten feet of the canoe ; 

 then the sight of us and the net started him off again, 

 and it was all to do over. Gradually he was forced 

 toward us, swinging in and out time after time, till at 

 last he lay for a breathless instant within three feet of 

 the gunwale, getting up courage for another spurt. 

 With a dexterous sweep, Peter brought the landing net 

 up behind and his salmonship's next wild struggles 

 were against its meshes in the bottom of the canoe. 



"It was a beautiful creature that threw itself fran- 

 tically about, flopping from side to side, bending double 

 and lashing out with surprising strength, and springing 

 violently into the air, net and all. About twenty inches 

 long, stocky and well-rounded, but perfectly propor- 

 tioned, with savage head and jaws, he seemed built for 

 doughty deeds and the strenuous life. His back was a 

 rich velvety green, lustrous from the glistening water 

 and covered with half-concealed black spots. This 

 color gradually shaded into a lighter tint, merging at 

 the median line into a silvery coat that gleamed rose- 

 ate and iridescent in the sunlight." 



