254: The combat deepens. App. B. 



tion. At last I managed to move him, and he dashed 

 down stream 70 or 80 yards, and sulked there. Now 

 commenced my task. I soon found that merely keeping 

 a steady pull on him had no effect, especially as he was 

 now below me. The pressure I kept on him was so great 

 that attempting to wind up line simply caused the line 

 to sink between the coils already on the reel ; so my only 

 plan was to draw in an inch or so of line with my hand, 

 and then wind it up on the reel. By dint of perseverance 

 I succeeded in getting him up to within 20 yards or so, 

 and then not another inch could I gain; but I managed 

 to rile him apparently, for off he rushed to the bottom 

 of the stream again. Of course by this time it was pitch 

 dark, or else I should have been tempted to try and effect 

 a passage across the bar, with the almost certainty of 

 going in over head and ears. As it was, prudence carri- 

 ed the day, and I sat down on a rock, put the butt of my 

 rod between my legs, and lit a pipe. I then sent my fisher- 

 man off to camp, about two and a half miles over very 

 rough ground, to order some dinner to be brought out, 

 besides dry shoes and socks, and a great coat. By the 

 time the welcome sight of a lantern appeared it was near 

 ten o'clock, and all the time I had been fighting for every 

 inch of line. There was a splice in my line, and the 

 struggle I had to get it on the reel is almost incredible. 

 Time after time I felt it pass through my fingers and just 

 reach the reel, when the fish would shake his head, and 

 pull it half-way down the rod again. 



After some little delay in collecting sticks and light- 



