A BOOK OF FISHING STORIES 



turn or two to one of the reels, there was a heavy splash and a 

 scream of the check, and it was evident that he was into a big 

 fish. Ten minutes of breathless anxiety followed, but by 

 great good luck we managed to reach the bank without the lines 

 fouling, and with both our fish still well hooked. Mine proved 

 to be but a paltry ten-pounder, and was soon got out of the way, 

 nor was there anything remarkable about the capture of Milner's 

 fish, which came to the gaff in about twenty-five minutes, 

 after disturbing the greater part of the pool, for, in spite of 

 its great size, it had never once sulked, the one expedient 

 that never fails to prolong the period of suspense. It weighed, 

 if I remember right, 36 lb., but, after all this lapse of time, 

 I should not care to assert with any degree of certainty any- 

 thing more definite than that it was certainly well over thirty. 

 On another day, while still a guest at Murthly, I was de- 

 tailed to fish the even more prolific and sporting water near 

 Stanley, then rented by John, and William, Graham, the latter 

 of whom was the well-known art collector, the friend of Rossetti 

 and Burne- Jones. On this occasion my companion was a 

 lad who shall be nameless, who had never caught a salmon, 

 or, for the matter of that, had hardly ever handled a fishing-rod 

 in his life. He had novice's luck. Everything seemed to 

 come to his side of the boat. For once, however, he did not 

 have novice's success, for he kept on hooking and losing fish, 

 and two at any rate of the many that broke away looked to 

 my envious gaze well over the coveted 30 lb. His failures 

 were the result of a combination of sheer bad luck and want 

 of skill. The stream was very strong, and his hands trembled 



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