50 OW'RE THE FA'. 



what more carefully. There was but small hope that 

 my fish had not yet escaped, for several yards of the 

 line had run out, while my rod was in the stream, and 

 it was now quite slack. When I had scrambled down 

 to the foot of the fall, I began to wind up the line as 

 fast as I could, but felt nothing of my fish. At length 

 I had nearly taken in the whole line, when, to my 

 amazement and delight, a sudden rush and the conse- 

 quent whizzing of the winch apprised me that he was 

 still secure. And now succeeded a second combat, 

 more severe by far than anything I had yet witnessed. 

 The plunges of the fish were terrific, and his flights 

 through the air perfectly wonderful, causing me con- 

 tinually to tremble for my tackle, especially as he 

 seemed to be making for the third and last fall. 

 Donald now stole up to me, and, as though he were 

 afraid of his own voice at such a crisis, in a low tone, 

 approaching almost to a whisper, entreated me to hold 

 him up the stream, and prevent his "ganging ow're the 

 fa' that gait," advice which I would only too gladly 

 have followed, had it rested with myself. But a fresh- 

 run salmon is not so easily guided, especially if he has 

 the start. 



I now, however, thought I saw symptoms of distress 

 in the fish, and began to cherish hopes of a successful 

 issue, when a sudden rush up the stream snapped the 

 top of my rod into two pieces. I heard Donald groan 

 as he said, " 'Deed, sir, but ye 're unco misfortunate 

 the day." However, in spite of this additional dis- 

 advantage, I persevered, and now the fish was evidently 

 relaxing his efforts. But still, slowly and certainly, he 

 was nearing the fall, and each short struggle lessened 

 the distance. Could I but hold him up the stream a 

 few minutes longer he would be mine; but when he was 



