226 FORAYS AMONG SALMON AND DEER. 



account of salmon-fishing but you may leave it unread 

 if you like, and begin here. In ten minutes after the 

 fall of the eagle I was standing beside my favourite 

 pool (Gaelice, Fowl Doule) putting up my rod and 

 looking occasionally over my shoulder at the rocks, 

 down which I had almost flown in the descent, and 

 wondering how on earth I had escaped breaking my 

 neck. During one of those looks a great splash close 

 by me brought me completely to my senses, and in 

 five minutes more (about half past seven o'clock) I was 

 straightening my line in the stream above the pool. 

 Step by step I descended cautiously (almost with a 

 feeling of nursing my anxiety), letting the fly nearer 

 and nearer the spot where I expected to see it en- 

 gulphed ; and step by step and very slowly on I went, 

 and the fly had been over the spot once, twice, yes, 

 three times, and nothing. I felt hurt, but on I went ; 

 he must rise lower down ; but at last I had fished to 

 the very tail. I turned round, stuck the rod on end, 

 wiped my brow, and would not believe it so to the 

 top again; but a second trial brought confirmation and 

 bitter disappointment. By way of relief I fell foul of 

 Jemmy (who had only just arrived) for taking so long 

 a time in getting down the hill. He got the gaff out, 

 Gillespie got his pipe out (mine was out already), and 

 they followed me as 1 almost plodded along to the next 

 pool, not a favourite one. After two or three prelimi- 

 nary casts I tried the top, a very rapid deep stream, 

 rather carelessly, and at the second cast, as the fly was 

 whirled round by the stream into an eddy, there was a 

 sudden commotion in the stream, a bright flash of 

 foam floated down amongst the brown waters, and a 

 salmon had risen. The river was slightly flooded, so 

 two minutes served to rest him. This time I took the 

 fly cautiously over the same spot, and just as it was 



