FISHING IN IABRADOR. 



59 



had not been able to pass the fall to 

 their spawning ground, and had re- 

 mained in the river through the winter. 

 They were as thin as a rail, almost 

 round, and as black as a river pickerel. 

 In fishing parlance they were racers, so 

 totally different from the fresh run sal- 

 mon that you would hardly believe they 

 belonged to the same species. 



The salmon that had just come into 

 the river were continually making inef- 

 fectual efforts to get above the fall by 

 jumping four or five feet up into a little 

 pool, about six feet square, and from 

 one to three feet deep. Then they 

 would try to run up a thin sheet of 

 water that was running over the top of 

 the fall. I told my friends that if I 

 could catch a salmon with my hands 

 while in the air, I would have a cham- 

 pion fish story to tell. So seating my- 

 self in the cold water, I would wait 

 until a fish would jump into the pool, 

 from the river below. I, of course, be- 

 ing out of sight until he was in the air. 

 I would then seize him, as near the 

 head as possible, when he would slip, 

 either forward or backward, accordingly 

 as I had hold of him. 



After I had seized two or three sal- 

 mon and they had escaped, they would 

 cease jumping into the pool for a couple 

 of hours, my victims giving information, 

 I have no doubt, in some way to the 

 others in the river that there was danger 

 on the rocks above. In the afternoon 

 I tried it again with no better success. 

 They were as strong and as slippery as 

 an eel. I was not to be beaten, how- 

 ever, and the next day waded into the 

 pool again. This time I succeeded in 

 getting a firm hold, under the gills, of a 

 20 pound salmon. Then came the tus- 



sle to get on my feet ; then out of the 

 water and then to get up on the bank of 

 the river, over a perpendicular rock four 

 feet high. When I first stood up the 

 fish bent his body almost in the form of 

 a semi-circle and it was with the great- 

 est effort that I saved myself from be- 

 ing forced over the falls into the river 

 below. I am a fair wrestler and I 

 would be about as willing to take my 

 chances of not being thrown into the 

 river with any man I ever met, as to 

 again attempt to take a salmon of that 

 size out of that pool. These fish are 

 appropriately named " King Salmon." 

 No one can realize the strength of a 

 salmon, unless he has handled one 

 fresh from the water, before he has had 

 a long run for his life. Mr. Muller as- 

 sisted me out of the pool by taking 

 hold of my collar and lifting me up to a 

 place of safety, and without his aid I 

 should have had to let the fish escape. 

 Mr. Peabody was curious to learn 

 whether a salmon, coming into the fresh 

 water from the sea, ever took any food, 

 and if so, what kind. He examined the 

 stomachs of all the fish taken, but found 

 nothing in them but a little substance 

 that looked like sand, so small in 

 amount that you could hold it on the 

 nail of your little finger. This was 

 also true of the Racers found at the 

 fourth fall. Why is it that a salmon will 

 rise to the fly and never take a live bait? 

 They no doubt take the fly from curi- 

 osity, as I do not remember one ever 

 taking it low in his mouth, as trout or 

 black bass often do. Salmon are hooked 

 only in the lips. We remained on the 

 river twelve days and killed all the sal- 

 mon we wanted. In one day I killed 

 10 and Mr. Merritt 22. 



