64 PLEASURES OF ANGLING. 



gravated form, and felt, as my astonished guide 

 said I looked, " pale as a ghost." 



But this state of ridiculous semi-stupor lasted but 

 for a moment. The slight twitch I felt as the fly 

 slipped from the mouth of the fish operated like 

 the sound of a trumpet. Every nerve tingled and 

 the blood leaped through my veins as if every drop 

 was an electric battery. In a very few moments, 

 however, I was myself again. I had marked the 

 spot where the fish had risen, had gathered up my 

 line for another cast, had dropped the fly just where 

 I desired it to rest, when, like a flash, the same 

 enormous head appeared, the same open jaws re- 

 vealed themselves, a swirl and a leap and a strike 

 followed, and my first salmon was hooked with a 

 thud, which told me as plainly as if the operation 

 had transpired within the range of my vision, that 

 if I lost him it would be my own fault. When 

 thus assured, there was excitement but no flurry. 

 My nerves thrilled and every muscle assumed the 

 tension of well tempered steel, but I realized the 

 full sublimity of the occasion, and a sort of majes- 

 tic calmness took the place of the stupid inaction 

 which followed the first apparition. My untested 

 rod bent under the pressure in a graceful curve ; 

 my reel clicked out a livelier melody than ever 

 emanated from harp or hautboy as the astonished 

 fish made his first dash ; the tensioned line emitted 



