CH. VI.] ALL RIGHT AT LAST. 93 
self that whatever it might be, it was worth 
catching, to get hold of the rod with my right 
hand, than out spun the line, cutting into the 
fingers of my left hand, through which I managed 
to ease it, until I could bring the rod into play. 
Then “whirr” went the reel, and the next instant, 
at some thirty or forty yards from the boat a 
Salmon of over twelve pounds flung himself—and 
again—and again—out of the water. I need not 
continue the story. The rest of the business, 
after he had “had his fling,’ and I had got him 
under command, was simple enough; the result 
being that in a quarter of an hour or so we were 
“wetting’” him under a sheltering rock, while the 
little dog, to whom I allude at greater length else- 
where, was prosecuting his usual search after 
field-mice. 
1 Let not the Angler at such a time be chary of the con- 
tents of his flask—or of his tobacco-pouch—if his Gillies have 
done their work well. His success in great measure depends 
on their cheerful and active cooperation, and there is perhaps 
no way more calculated to insure this than a slight largess 
thus bestowed. 
But—apart from any application of the principle that gra- 
titude is “a lively sense of favours to come”—there is some- 
thing cheery in the “wee drappie all round,” and the “ better 
luck still, Sir,” which preludes the tossing off of each. Master 
and men will work together all the better for it, and the 
result will be all the worse for the Salmon. 
