White Bay his guides told, him of a place 

 where the salmon climbed the cliff behind 

 a fall, and where the fishermen collected 

 barrels of fish for winter use every season. 

 He went with them behind the fall, and 

 watched for hours as the salmon plunged in 

 and then began the almost impossible task 

 of leaping up the rock. There, as here, only 

 a fraction of the struggling fish ever reached 

 the top. Some of the unsuccessful ones 

 tried again; others sped away to heal their 

 wounds; the rest lay quiet among the rocks 

 awaiting the poor fishermen, or floated away 

 to feed the mink and the eagle. Nature 

 called the many in order to choose a few, 

 and the whole process was accompanied by 

 that apparent waste and perfect economy 

 with which Nature always accomplishes her 

 object. 



As we go down-stream and take up our 

 position on the flat rock again, a heavy 

 plunge out on the edge of the white current 

 shows that our big salmon is still there and 

 in a rising mood. He will take our fly now ; 

 and the rest is a matter of skill, with a large 



341 



M>ere ffie 

 Salmon Jump 



