Salmon-fishing — Catching the Fish. 161 



Once more we work him in short, showing increased 

 signs of distress. But again he sees Tom — it is wonder- 

 ful how the salmon hate him — and again he is off. But 

 we are at the end of the landing-place, and so heavy a 

 fish could not be drawn up against the current though he 

 should remain perfectly passive. We must take to the 

 canoe, and try him again at the next landing-place, some 

 half-mile farther down. 



He is quite discouraged now, and does as he is bid with 

 little remonstrance. We land again, and though he sulks 

 some, we work him slowly in without difficulty. Tom 

 anticipates about where he will arrive, and motionless 

 awaits him gaff in hand. Peter hunts for a long thin 

 stone. The exhausted fish rolls on his side, when a well- 

 timed impulse of the rod slews him still nearer the shore 

 and within reach. Like a flash the cruel gaff is around his 

 backbone, he lies on the bank, the lad hammers him on 

 the head with the stone, the scales show thirty-two 

 pounds, and we drop the rod and sprawl out on the bank 

 utterly exhausted, after a contest of one hour and fifty 

 minutes. 



Now that it is written I find that I have departed some- 

 what in this narrative from my original purpose. Though 

 the leading features of all are more or less alike, still every 

 capture of a salmon has its individualities. To where we 

 made the first landing our narrative is strictly typical, and 

 its counterpart has occurred and will occur again and 

 again to every salmon-angler when fishing in a similar 

 locality. There a picture, the most vivid of my recollec- 

 tions of salmon-fishing, rose before me, and I uncon- 

 sciously drifted into describing a particular incident — 

 the capture of my largest fish. Though every salmon 

 n 



