156 The American SaLmonrfisherman. 



The fly sweeps over Hm, he rolls, he seizes it, and bears 

 it downward with him. A few yards of line draw slowly 

 from the reel, to the free action of which no impediment 

 is offered. The rod is raised to meet the demonstration 

 that we know, though he seems so indifferent now, will 

 not be long postponed. The anchor is at once lifted, and 

 the canoe is brought in close against the bank. 



All is suspense — what is he about to do ? for so far he 

 has acted as though the fly had been quite forgotten. 

 The inexperienced may wonder at his apparent apathy, 

 but he who has been there before feels as though the 

 heavens were about to fall, and waits for them to come. 

 It comes; slowly the reel speaks — faster — faster — the 

 handle becomes but a blur of light, and the voice of the 

 click rises to a scream. The line melts away from the 

 reel like salt in water, and the coil that was nearly four 

 inches in diameter is now three — two — one — will he never 

 stop ? " Go for him, Tom — go for him, or the beggar 

 will break us !" And the canoe starts in pursuit with all 

 the speed two powerful paddles can impart. 



When scarcely ten yards out of the hundred and twenty- 

 four remain in reserve, away across the river a fragment 

 of silver, apparently about a foot long, soars into the air, 

 and falls back into the water with a splash. The line 

 ceases to be withdrawn, and, taking immediate advantage 

 of the possibility, it is recovered as rapidly as the handle 

 of the reel can be manipulated, yet with every precaution 

 that each turn is distributed evenly and solidly on the 

 spool. For this is but the overture of the opera, so to 

 speak, and again and again will the line be snatched from 

 us until almost the bare axle of the reel appears. 



Thus two thirds of the line are recovered, and the 



