repeated on the
second drop; and so on, until the end of the run is reached and the fly
has passed over all the good water. This seems like a very regular
and somewhat mechanical proceeding as one describes it, but in the
performance it is rendered intensely interesting by the knowledge that
at any moment it is liable to be interrupted.

This morning the interruption comes early. At the first cast of the
second drop, before the fly has fairly lit, a great flash of silver
darts from the waves close by the boat. Usually a salmon takes the fly
rather slowly, carrying it under water before he seizes it in his mouth.
But this one is in no mood for deliberation. He has hooked himself with
a rush, and the line goes whirring madly from the reel as he races down
the pool. Keep the point of the rod low; he must have his own way now.
Up with the anchor quickly, and send the canoe after him, bowman and
sternman paddling with swift strokes. He has reached the deepest water;
he stops to think what has happened to him; we have passed around and
below him; and now, with the current to help us, we can begin to reel
in. Lift the point of the rod, with a strong, steady pull. Put the force
of both arms into it. The tough wood will stand the strain. The fish
must be moved; he must come to the boat if he is ever to be landed. He
gives a little and yields slowly to the pressure. Then suddenly he
gives too much, and runs straight toward us. Reel in now as swiftly as
possible, or else he will get a slack on the line and escape. Now he
stops, shakes his head from side to side, and darts away again across
the pool, leaping high out of water. Don't touch the reel! Drop the
point of the rod quickly, for if he falls on the leader he will surely
break it. Another leap, and another! Truly he is "a merry one," and it
will go hard with us to hold him. But those great leaps have exhausted
his strength, and now he follows the rod more easily. The men push the
boat back to the shallow side of the pool until it touches lightly on
the shore. The fish comes slowly in, fighting a little and making a few
short runs; he is tired and turns slightly on his side; but even yet he
is a heavy weight on the line, and it seems a wonder that so slight a
thing as the leader can guide and draw him. Now he is close to the boat.
The boatman steps out on a rock with his gaff. Steadily now and slowly,
lift the rod, bending it backward. A quick sure stroke of the steel! a
great