feel a bit satisfied because you think you have at last 

 outwitted the same fish as you suppose him to be. 



This, however, is not always the case, for very 

 often you hook an entirely different salmon from 

 the one which rose first. I was fishing, many 

 summers ago, near the head waters of that wild 

 little river, the Nepisiguit, and had for my com- 

 panion Mr. Spurr, of St. John, New Brunswick 

 and a fine salmon-angler he was. As there was a 

 cliff about twenty feet high at the right of the pool 

 in which we expected some sport, I suggested 

 (limbing up to see if there were any fish below. 

 Crawling to the edge and looking over, I counted 

 nine salmon at the head of the pool, lying side by 

 side. Having told my friend where to cast, he 

 threw a beautiful line, dropping the fly lightly just 

 above the first salmon on the opposite side. The 

 second fish rose, but did not take the fly. He cast 

 again, when the fourth, darting down-stream, 

 turned and rose in about the same place in which 

 the first had appeared. 



"I will get you yet, old fellow!" I heard him say. 

 Again he cast, but this time the seventh salmon 

 started and seized the fly just where the other two 

 had risen. 



" I knew I should get you ! " he shouted. Then 

 there was a tussle. Up and down stream flew the 

 salmon, now out of the water, sometimes sulking, 

 and finally away he went for the rapids. The old 



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