86 THROUGH CANADA 



I had no fear of the rod, which was a stout green- 

 heart of carefully selected timber, and specially made 

 for large salmon. The line was finest silk, and the 

 spoon mounted on gimp that could not be readily cut 

 with the fish's formidable teeth. It was a question, 

 therefore, of firm hooking and careful handling. The 

 moment I applied pressure to check the run, the fish 

 turned and took a slanting direction. Ellick paddled 

 towards him, and I recovered about twenty yards of 

 line. More pressure set him off again, with a pace 

 equal to a salmon's, which ended with a break on the 

 top of the water, disclosing his full proportions to our 

 admiring gaze. Another pause followed, with more 

 paddling and reel winding. So things progressed for 

 some time. 



The maskalonge's method of fight is cunning. He 

 makes rapid runs in the effort to break loose, then 

 rests almost on the top of the water. This gives him 

 breathing space, and when the canoe approaches him 

 he is off again as vigorous as ever. In this particular 

 he differs from the salmon, which only comes to the 

 top when absolutely exhausted, excepting, of course, 

 Salino salar's lordly springs. How far he might alter 

 this method if played with a hand-line, a method all 

 too common in Canada, I do not know. It is possible 

 that the firm pressure of the rod brings him up. 

 The spring salmon of British Columbia keeps steadily 

 on the move, with only an occasional dash, and in 

 that way reserves its strength. The maskalonge 



