A GREAT FISH AND A GREATER FISHERMAN 17 
course, I had lowered the point of the rod when 
he leaped, that the great fish had parted company 
with me for ever. " He has gone," I said, as 
with a sickening sense of disappointment I reeled 
in the slack line in the faint hope that he might 
still be on, having turned and come down the 
river again — but no, it was not to be, and the line 
soon came back to me, the cast having been 
broken about a foot from the end. C. said not 
a word, nor did I for a time. No mere words 
are appropriate on such an occasion and cannot 
diminish the loss of a fresh-run spring salmon, 
so marvellously brilliant and beautiful, and in 
this particular instance probably half as large 
again, perhaps twice as large, as the biggest fish 
I have ever landed during the time, now more 
than forty years, that I have been a salmon fisher. 
Within a short time I started fishing again, but 
the day was done and we saw nothing more. 
After the catastrophe I found that the reel had 
been loose, and that the wedges used to make it 
fit closely to the rod had shifted and finally fallen 
out in consequence of the rushes made by the 
fish. I also learnt later on that the rod did not 
belong to my host, and that by a misunderstanding 
this rod, which happened not to have been taken 
