en it
paused. Gradually it answered my leading, and with a slowness that
became positively exciting, moved upwards, say, thirty yards. I heaved
a sigh of relief, and Guthrie breathed like a bellows.

And now the salmon appeared to be struck with a new idea; it turned
aside and shot across the river at a high speed for fifty yards. What
meant the sudden stoppage? It was not the halt of sulkiness. I knew
that well. Not daring to speak my fear I looked at Guthrie, who at
once put it into words--"Round a rock." Down-stream and up-stream I
cautiously moved, the rod never altering its tension curve. The racing
river was cut by the tight line, so that there was a hissing heard
above wind and stream. Somehow, though the chances were a million to
one against me, I felt that the fish was still held by the hook. Five
minutes of this suspense brought a different verdict from Guthrie: "Ah!
ye needn't bother; ye'll find the heuk, nae doot, but nae fish."

"I am not so sure of that," I said. "Get the boat down, Guthrie, and
we'll go out to him, anyhow." The boat was brought down accordingly,
and out we went. The line was winched in cautiously (I might almost
say prayerfully), and--well, something inside my waistcoat gave a
mighty thump, and I could feel my face whiten. For, behold, the
salmon--marvellous to relate--was still on, and as we approached to
within a few yards of the rock the uplifted rod cleared the line, and
the fish sped up-stream to the sharp music of the reel. Quickly as
might be Guthrie brought me to shore, and the remainder of the battle
was fought out from the shingle. There was one rush of nearly a
hundred yards, then the fish calmed down and answered to the winch,
moving down, nevertheless, much too persistently to Scylla and
Charybdis.

Confound it, the old peril was coming close again. The good sign was
that, as I followed on the bank, I could keep on reeling in line. A
sheer towards the rock of offence prompted the thought that the salmon
had been under its protection before, and I put on extra strain and
kept him this side of it. By this time the fish was getting exhausted,
but the distance from the broken water was so lessening that I
determined to either mend or end the business by a gift of the butt.

"Go below, Guthrie, and I'll bring him in," was the word, and the old
man soon got his opportunity, not to lift it out in the ordinary way,
but to clap the net upon it as it struggled on