THE. RIVER OE MISFORTUNE. 
99 
that jarring feeling which has turned so many 
hearts to lead, and I saw that the line pointed 
up stream when it was quite obvious that the 
fish was below. Hoping against certainty, I 
said to myself that it might be drowned line, 
but a hard pull proved it was not. I was hung 
up. We got the canoe easily out to the place, 
and tried all round on every side. But it was 
no use. I had to break. 
It was a gloomy party which returned. It 
was more than hinted that the disaster was my 
own fault, and that the line had been allowed 
to get bagged—a suggestion which my jangled 
nerves repelled with unnecessary asperity. We 
were silent and morose. Night fell quickly, 
and everyone was glad to see the yellow lights of 
the launch reflected in the dark water. 
We discussed the matter that evening and 
decided to try again; and at five o’clock next 
morning we paddled up once more. The water 
was much lower; the projecting boulder stood 
a long way further out, and we could get the 
canoe up to where I had hooked the fish. My 
companion cast; and hooked another in the same 
place which behaved in the same way. We got 
into the boat and drifted down; and—his line 
suddenly stopped where mine had stopped the 
night before. The canoe was got out. Pulling 
at the line and working at it with the long- 
handled gaff I could recover several yards, and 
could feel that the obstruction was something 
