SPORT AT CAMPBELL RIVER 53 



even phlegmatic Indians grinned or yelled 

 * tyee, tyee ' in sympathetic encouragement. 

 We all cleared each other somehow. I do not 

 quite know how. Sir John was whisked 

 straight out to sea, and was a quarter of a mile 

 off in no time. Mr. Powell broke, while my 

 fish, to my horror, went straight for the beacon. 

 I lugged at him to steer clear, and he took the 

 hint so forcibly that he burnt my finger on the 

 line with the rush he made for the deep water. 

 It was like poor Dan Leno's hunting song, 

 ' Away, away and away. I don't know where 

 we're going to, but away and away and away.' 

 We could hear men laughing and joking in the 

 darkness behind, and then in a moment we 

 were out of it all in the silence of the boiling 

 tide. Mac was a good boatman, and the way 

 he followed that tyee in the eight-knot current 

 did him credit. This was the strongest fish I 

 have ever hooked. He seemed to do with us 

 just what he chose, and we, like sheep, had to 

 follow. If he had carried out his first laudable 

 intention of a visit to Queen Charlotte Islands 

 he might have defeated us, but seemingly he 

 altered his plan and made a fierce hundred 

 yards' run for the curl of the current at the 

 mouth of the Campbell River. Here there 

 were nasty lumps of floating kelp, and the two 

 anglers fishing there received our return land- 



