a 55 



i i 

 10 SALMON FISHING IN CANADA. 



do next, found that we were about to troll along the edges 

 of the lake, and that my fly was to be the middle one, thus 

 following exactly the wake of the boat. We spent but a 

 short time at this work, when I was alarmed by an awful 

 splash in the still water behind me and a sudden and 

 simultaneous effort to pluck my rod from my hand. On 

 turning round to see what was the matter, for I had been 

 steering and sitting with my back to the stern, while my 

 fly trailed after, I perceived that I had hooked something, 

 and that that thing, whatever it was, was darting through 

 the water and spinning out my wheel line at the rate of 

 about twenty miles an hour. Then arose a din and a 

 tumult and a confusion of tongues, which must have 

 astonished the naiads in the peaceful glades of Lyn 

 Quinnan ; " Give him line ! " shouted fat Knipe ; " Give 

 the butt ! " exclaimed old Thomas ; " Keep up the top of 

 your rod ! " growled the cross-grained old boatman. I 

 endeavom-ed to dp all ; but, unfortunately for me, there was 

 a knot upon my reel line ; it would not pass the rings ; the 

 fish was brought to a dead halt in his race, he spun up at 

 least five feet into the sunshine, shook his head violently, 

 fell back into the sparkling water, and swam C[uietly off 

 with old Eice Thomas's red-hackle stuck in his jaw and 

 about ten yards of my line. 



My agitation, vexation, and disappointment may be 

 more easily imagined than described ; they were in fact a 

 severe punishment, but when the old fellows be^-an to 



