250 AN ANGLER'S SEASON 



was not sorry. Two or three of the 

 rising salmon were only a few yards 

 from our bank. I could easily reach 

 them with a comparatively short line, 

 and in the dusk I should not be seen. 

 . . . At last! 



On parting from Mr. Malloch, to 

 whom, according to custom when passing 

 through Perth, I had paid my respects 

 the morning before, I had received wishes 

 for good luck and a forty-pounder. It 

 seemed as if the wishes were to be not 

 vain. 



You cannot always tell, even approxi- 

 mately, the weight of a fish just hooked ; 

 but there was something unprecedentedly 

 emphatic about this one. Against the 

 easy violence of his dive, the great, stiff, 

 lumbering rod was as a reed shaken by 

 the wind. 



If a salmon could make the weapon 

 bustle about so, why should not I ? I 

 felt ashamed of my aches and pains, and 

 they instantly ceased to be. Why had I 

 been cross and taciturn ? John was the 



