smile.

However, before the rod could be given into Lionel's hands the salmon
had changed his tactics. He came dashing across to the nearer side of
the Aivron, so that the nose of land separating the two rivers
threatened to come between the fish and his captor; there he lay still.

"Robert," she cried, in despair, "if he goes another yard up-stream he
will have the line on that bush! What is to be done?"

Almost at the same moment the fish began to move again--slowly this
time--and with agonized anxiety they saw the line, despite all her
efforts to keep it off, being quietly drawn into the small hazel-bush.
But Robert knew that bush and its ways.

"Take the rod in, sir, as far as you can go," he said to Lionel; and
then he himself ran round to a shallow ford of the Geinig, crossed over,
went along the bank, and proceeded to get the line cautiously off the
twigs and leaves. As soon as he had accomplished that he stealthily
withdrew, stooped down, and crept along the Aivron bank until he was a
little ahead of the fish, which, indeed, was almost underneath his feet;
then he suddenly raised himself to his full height and threw up both
arms. That was enough for the salmon. Away to the other side he rushed,
leading down-stream; and Lionel had now his work cut out for him, for he
was standing in deep water, on a shelving bank of loose shingle, and he
had to follow somehow, reeling in as best he might. But ever, as he
struggled after that obdurate, unseen creature, he made for shallower
water; and at length he reached dry land, and was glad to give the rod
into Miss Honnor's hands again--the fish, which had never once shown
himself, being now almost opposite her and in mid-channel.

Well, they had a good deal of trouble with this salmon, for he did not
exhaust himself with any further rushes, nor did he disport himself in
the air; he simply lay low in the water, in a pretty strong current, and
awaited events. But here in the open Miss Honnor had regained her
confidence and usual composure; and in the end the continuous pressure
of the green-heart top was too much for him; he began to yield--fiercely
fighting now and again to get away, to be sure; but the climax was a
sudden flash of Robert's steel clip, and a heavy-shouldered
fifteen-pounder was out on the stones. Old Robert, smiling grimly at the
success of his young mistress, but saying nothing, had to "wet" the fish
all by himself; for Miss Honnor's drink was water; an