SAUfON-FISHING. 75 



Hahet ! he has it ! Now, Ole ! steadily and 

 slowly to the shore ! He is quite quiet as yet, and 

 has scarcely discovered the singular nature and pro- 

 perties of the insect he has appropriated, but swims 

 quietly round and round in short circles, wondering 

 no doubt, but so far unalarmed. I am only too 

 thankful for the momentary respite, and treat him 

 with the most respectful gentleness, but a growing 

 though scarcely perceptible increase of the strain 

 on my rod bends it gradually lower and lower until 

 the reel begins to give out its first slow music. 

 My fingers are on the line to give it the slight 

 resistance of friction, but the speed increases too 

 rapidly for me to bear them there long, and I 

 withdraw them just in time to save their being 

 cut to the bone in the tremendous rush which 

 follows. Whizz-z-z ! up the pool he goes ! the line 

 scattering the spray from the surface in a small 

 fountain, like the cut-water of a Thames steamer. 

 And now a thousand fears assail me — should there 

 be one defective strand in my casting-line, one 



