PUGE1 UND SALMi 



43 * 



during the battle. We lay our course 



toward the open sound to meet the incom- 

 ing fish. After rowing one or j miles, we 

 see the schools; their presence made known 

 by sundry silvery flashes in the air and 

 heavy splashings in the water. 



The tyro holds the rod-, one in either 

 hand, having paid out some 20 yard- 01' line 

 from each reel. We pull back and forth 2 

 or 3 times over the place where the ^almon 

 were seen leaping most frequently, without 

 any result Suddenly, you, who. for the 

 nonce, are the line-holder, cry: " Hold up! 

 Hold up! I've got something. It fee' 

 if my line were snagged." In a jiffy, the 

 oar- are in and the rower has taken his own 

 rod and begins reeling in line for dear life. 

 After the first heavy surge, you have felt 

 nothing on your hook and commence reel- 

 ing in to see what is the matter. Ten feet 

 of line comes in and you feel nothing. 

 " He's off," you say dejectedly: but before 

 there is time for a reply, there comes a tug 

 and you exclaim, " Xo: he's there yet." 

 and continue winding up. Five — 10 — 15 

 feet of silk is brought in. There seem- to 

 be a dead weight on the line, but it comes 

 along smoothly and without much resist- 

 ance. 



"Is this what you call a gamy fish? 

 Why he's got no more fight in him than a 

 sucker! " The salmon hears your con- 

 temptuous remark, probably, for the words 

 are hardly out of your mouth before he 

 makes a short dash, followed by a spring 

 and savage shaking of his head. The know- 

 ing one smiles complacently and says, 

 "You are not done with him yet." You do 

 not hear him, though, for you have your 

 hands full. The reel whirs like an angry 

 rattlesnake and the line runs out until 1-3 

 of it is gone. You put on the brake, but 

 still it goes. Fifty feet more and the fish 

 suddi-ily turns and comes straight toward 

 the boat with a speed that makes you hustle 

 to keep a taut line on him. 



He makes a broad sweep around the boat, 

 jumps again, and takes another run. Then 

 he fights the line, running this way and 



that. He bunt-, and zigzag-, trying his level 



to rid himself of his tormentor, 

 minuter of this and he up. 



He come- right along like a well halter- 

 broken colt. 



" He's done for. Get th< You are 



mistaken in your fish. h< He catche-, 



sight of you and down he . 



:et he bores toward the bottom of the 

 nd and there he sulks, coming up. in the 

 end, 30 yards away. 



After another fight, you coax him to the 

 boat again and think you must have him 

 tired out. The - ready, but he -?ees it. 



Xow look out. for he makes a rush directly 

 under the boat. This is the most dangerou- 

 maneuver of all, as your line must run freely 

 or he will draw the rod across the gunwale 

 and snap it in a twinkling. Some way — 

 you don't know how — you get the line from 

 under the boat and are ready for another 

 bout. 



This time he strikes out for the open sea 

 and takes nearly every yard of line you 

 have: but in the end you stop him. At last, 

 when it is a question which will give up 

 first, you or the fish, he is gaffed and lie= 

 quivering at your feet. As you contemplate 

 his silvery beauty, you estimate his weight 

 — 10 pounds about — and then exclaim. 

 " What would I have done with a 21 

 pounder? " 



In 2 hours trolling you may take from 

 one to half a dozen fish, ranging in weight 

 from 5 to 20 pounds. I have known 20 sal- 

 mon to be taken in little over an hour's 

 fishing, a heavy hand line being used, so 

 that little time was lost in playing them: 

 and, to be truthful, I have pulled a boat for 

 half a day and never gotten a strike. 



Xo angler should visit the shores oi 

 Puget sound during the months of Sep- 

 tember, October, or X'ovember and go 

 away without enjoying at least one day's 

 royal sport with this king of our X'orthern 

 waters. Everything is right at hand, for I 

 have caught as fine fish as ever swam with- 

 in 100 yards of the wharves of this city of 

 50.000 people. 



" I suppose," he ventured. " you would 

 never speak to me again if I were to kiss 

 you." 



" Oh. George." she exclaimed. " why 

 don't you get over the habit of always look- 

 ing at the dark sides of things? " — Cleve- 

 land Leader. 



