h a wreck?
The idea that it was possible, with skilful handling, added a
hundredfold to the excitement, and put me on my mettle. So, finding
that the line was free, and that by keeping the dangling pieces in
proper position I could still manipulate the reel, I renewed the
contest, and after floating a mile or two with the current, brought him
to gaff. I mourned, of course, the destruction of my favorite rod--the
best I ever handled, which had served me, without a crack, for two
years, and which I would not have exchanged for any rod I ever saw.
There was nothing gorgeous about it; but it had life in every fibre,
and responded with every cast, from tip to butt, with such spring and
elasticity as rendered casting with it a real pleasure.

VIII.

And apropos of the old adage that wise men learn from experience. After
this fish had thus made shipwreck of my favorite rod, the Judge, with a
generosity which is characteristic of the true angler--and no man has
the spirit of the true angler who is not generous--proffered me the use
of his untried bamboo. It was, and still is, the handsomest piece of
salmon rod workmanship I ever saw, and felt in the handling as if it
were as good to go as it was handsome to look at. He had hesitated,
with the excusable timidity of the novice, to use it himself, and
wished it tried, that he might report the result to its maker. I, of
course, felt complimented by this proof of confidence in my skill, and
consented, with the promise that I would do my best to preserve it
intact, but that I must save my fish if I had to risk every inch of my
harness.

The pool in which the test was to be made was directly in front of our
camp, and the water was still in excessive volume, and the flow
unpleasantly impetuous. I soon caught the hang of the rod, and was
making experimental casts of a hundred feet or more, quite delighted
with its spring and play, when I had a rise from the most dangerous
spot in the pool. Afraid to strike with my usual force, I simply raised
my tip an inch or two, and felt that he was as securely hooked as if I
had a "double hitch" around him. And it is curious this instinctive
consciousness of a secure or of a frail hold of your fish the instant
you strike him. Every observant angler has this consciousness; and
nothing is more common at such a moment than the remark, "I am afraid
he is not well hooked"; or, "Ah! that struck home"; and all the after
play--whether timidly or fearl