48 A HARD FIGHT. 



ponies, with the dogcart, at a shepherd's shieling hard 

 by, we put our tackle together, and hastened at once to 

 try our fortune. We found the stream swollen, and 

 were quickly assured of its containing fish, for we saw 

 the fresh-run salmon leaping in every direction. This, 

 however, was no agreeable sight ; for when salmon are 

 in the leaping mood, they are seldom disposed to take 

 the fly. The water was also rather too much dis- 

 coloured ; but this we remedied in some degree by 

 putting on a brighter fly. Donald selected for me 

 one out of a number which he carried hooked into his 

 bonnet; it was rather large in size, with a yellow 

 body, ribbed with gilt, the wings of bright blue and 

 orange. 



Leaving Walter, with Sandy in attendance, Donald 

 and I proceeded a little further down the stream, to a 

 spot where we were to find both fish and sport, if they 

 were to be had at all. But the spot deserves a descrip- 

 tion. There were three consecutive falls. Beneath 

 each fall there was a pool ; the uppermost and lowest 

 being of great depth, the middle one but shallow. 



Just as we arrived at the first pool, two salmon 

 sprang up the fall, in their upward course, having 

 already surmounted the two lower falls. One of the 

 two failed, and, falling back again into the pool, dis- 

 appeared in the dark abyss into which the roaring 

 torrent was pouring itself. I threw my fly across the 

 boiling current, and at my first cast a broad tail flapped 

 on the surface, and sullenly disappeared. By Donald's 

 advice, I then cast in another direction, so as to allow 

 the fish I had just raised to recover himself; then, 

 after a delay of two or three casts, I renewed the 

 challenge, and before a minute had elapsed I had 

 hooked my fish. 



