180 GOLDEN DAYS 



He fished the stream to the thicket-edge, 

 then plodded up the bank and began all 

 over again. Half-way down the line 

 tightened and held, buzzing in the heavy 

 current. For some seconds I thought 

 the fly had fouled a sunken rock, till the 

 line slowly began to forge ahead and 

 Jean Pierre's lips to purse and tighten. 

 The pace soon quickened and we could not 

 follow the fish downwards ; but eventu- 

 ally he hove-to, some thirty yards below 

 us, hanging dull and heavy in the stream, 

 till the steady strain from the big green- 

 heart rod forced him to move out and up 

 into more tranquil quarters. Here the 

 salmon played deep and sullenly, never 

 coming near the surface : only the taut 

 line was visible, hissing and rippling above 

 dark depths. The salmon pulled up 

 eventually in the deepest hole, and there 

 he lay and sulked. That fish refused to 

 budge ; the stout greenheart was unavail- 

 ing ; likewise the heavy stones which we 

 heaved towards his nose and perilously 

 near the strained line only induced him 

 to shift a foot or tw^o, when he would 

 revert once more to the old position. At 



