SALMON-FISHING 251 



too swirly through the rocky gorge, and with the 

 nine-foot cane rod I could just manage to switch 

 out the fly halfway across the comparatively narrow 

 throw. I proceeded to fish the said stream with that 

 feeling of confidence occasionally experienced, that 

 sooner or later a fish would come. And, sure enough, 

 three parts down the stream there was a draw on the 

 line : I raised my hand, and found myself fast in 

 something fairly heavy. The situation was suffi- 

 ciently exciting. It was the first salmon I had 

 hooked that year. The bank was rocky and steep. 

 There was no convenient place to land a good fish. 

 I had no gaff. And, lastly, while the tackle was old, 

 the little nine-foot rod was bent into a hoop, and there 

 was only 30 feet of trout-line on a small reel. There 

 was also a very practical consideration, above all 

 these things, firmly fixed in my mind. My supper 

 partly depended on what was going to happen during 

 the next fifteen or twenty minutes. 



But the Fates were kind, and the fish a clean 

 f ourteen-pounder was most considerate and obliging. 

 He sailed conveniently up and down the stream, but 

 did not try to run out of it. He did not jump too 

 violently, nor sulk beneath any of the numerous rocks 

 in the bed of the river. And, finally, having kindly 

 allowed me to put a string glove on one hand, he 

 eventually consented, after twenty doubtful minutes, 

 to be led into a small rocky bay just above the brink 

 of the pool, and to lie there for five thrilling seconds 

 until I grasped his tail in the gloved hand, heaved 

 him up on to the slippery rock on which I stood, and 

 incontinently fell on him and slew him. 



So my supper was secured ; and as I walked the 

 three miles to Aasen farm with the fish wrapped up 



