210 THROUGH CANADA 



who evidently knew nothing about angling, possessed 

 the next best merit for my purpose — docility — and 

 made himself a willing machine. Up-stream I let 

 out about sixty yards of line, and exhorted my guide 

 to row slowly. For half an hour nothing transpired, 

 and I varied the experiment by using a longer and 

 at times a shorter line. Passing round a rocky island 

 there was a sudden convulsion imparted to the rod, 

 and the reel gave a vigorous shriek. I had hooked 

 a fish. I awaited the rush which generally follows 

 when a salmon is hooked under such circumstances, 

 but it never came. Like a great many fish, my 

 introductory specimen unkindly severed his con- 

 nexion at the earliest possible moment. My guide 

 looked incredulous, and fortified his unbelief by the 

 theory of a rock or weed. 



We had not to wait very long, however, for the 

 triumph of a nobler faith. A hundred yards higher 

 up the river the reel again gave out signals of distress, 

 and continued to roar after I had accepted the gage 

 of battle and used all the resisting power of the rod. 

 The fish made slightly down and across stream. I 

 applied all the brake I could with my finger, but the 

 pace was rapid, and the friction of the line nearly cut 

 the skin. The usual wiles of the playing fish were 

 adopted in turn by my first Harrison River captive. 

 He rested after the run, giving me time to recover 

 twenty or thirty yards of line, filling in the interval 

 with vigorous head-shaking and jiggering. I directed 



