A NOVICE AT THE GAFF. 299 
somewhat controlled. At moderate pace he retraced his 
steps, and almost had got to where I struck him, when, 
putting a little more strain on than he admired, round he 
wheeled, and with bis previous velocity pointed his head 
again for the sea. Still, the struggle had its effect; this 
dash was not equal to previous ones, and fifty yards of line 
brought him up. For ten minutes it was give and take, 
back and forward, up and down, till at last I brought him, 
all resplendent in his silvery armor, into shoal water. “Now, 
Crosby, now’s your chance. Careful, man; don’t bein too 
big a hurry.” But my advice was disregarded ; the sailor, 
made a plunge at the fish with the gaff as if it had been a 
harpoon, scratched the salmon’s side, and all my work was 
again before me. The drawing of blood instilled new vital- 
ity into the fish’s veins, and the previously vanquished foe 
was running out line as if he had been fresh struck. I 
could, not be angry; when a novice I had done likewise, 
and no doubt my attendant had just made his virgin ef- 
fort. In fact, I could not help being amused at his as- 
tonished countenance, for doubtless he had already counted 
the fish as safe. This last struggle did not continue long; 
again I got him in shoal water, when, having cautioned and 
instructed my excited attendant as far as words could avail, 
he made a second effort, and that correctly. Twelve pounds 
was the weight of this noble salmon, and often have I found 
that those of this size are more game and afford a harder 
fight than larger fish. The strain on your rod is not so se- 
vere or the contest so long as with a heavier antagonist, but 
the activity and energy displayed are greater. 
Having overhauled my tackle, and lighted a weed as re- 
ward for my prowess, I again ascended to the top of the 
pool and commenced afresh—visions of the first fish I rose, 
which I felt convinced was a formidable one, inducing me to 
this course. My leader had now got straightencd from the 
