A TWEEDSWE SKETCH 137 



arms, a knack not to be acquired in a moment. I 



splashed away awkwardly, but at last managed to 



make a straight, clean cast. There was a slight 



pull, such as a trout gives in mid-stream under 



water. I raised the point, and again the reel sang 



aloud and gleefully as the salmon rushed down the 



stream farther and faster than the first. It is a 



very pleasant thing to hook a salmon when you 



are all alone, as I was then — alone with yourself 



and the Goddess of Fishing. This salmon, just 



like the other, now came back, and instantly began 



the old tactics of heavy plunging tugs. But I 



knew the gut \\as sound this time, and as I fancied 



he had risen to the sniggler, I had no anxiet}' 



about the tackle holding. One more plunge, and 



back came the line as before. He was off One 



could have sat down and gnawed the reel. What 



had gone wrong .'' Why, the brute had taken the 



old fly from the farmhouse and had snapped the 



loop that attaches the gut. The little loop ^\'as 



still on the fragment of minnow tackle which 



fastened it to the cast. 



There was no more chance, for there were 



