90 SALMON FISHING IN CANADA. 



line downwards and across the stream, gradually elongating 

 it, until the fly passed over the same spot in which the 

 salmon had risen. No sooner had it reached this spot than 

 it received a pull which suddenly bent the top of my rod 

 to the very surface of the water, and before I could get a 

 fair strain on it my wheel was singing loudly, and my line 

 running out at a fearful rate. By the time I could raise 

 my hand and give a perpendicular direction to my rod, the 

 fish appeared to have reached the far end of the pool : just 

 then I was enabled to get a good pull upon him, when my line 

 became lax and flaccid, leaving me, dejected and disgusted, 

 with nothing else to do but to wind it up. Again I ex- 

 amined my fly, again I found the hook broken off at the 

 middle of the bend, again I thought unkindly of Martin 

 Kelly, again I extracted from my box another fiery brown 

 and proceeded to attach it to my casting line, when I 

 found myself gasping for breath and nearly blinded with 

 smoke. On turning round I perceived one fire of dead 

 leaves, and withered branches, and wet drift wood, and 

 damp grass, giving out volumes of smoke, on my right 

 hand, another on my left, and my amiable Indian busily 

 employed in kindling a third immediately and closely 

 behind me. The day was bright, the sun was intensely 

 hot, and the rock on which we stood was exposed to all 

 his rays ; so that what could be his object in increasing the 

 already ardent heat was a mystery to me, until having 

 interrogated to him as well as I could by pantomime, he 



