.

"What's to be done now?" asked Stanley, who stood ready to gaff the fish
when brought near to the bank.

"We must rouse him up," said Frank, as he slowly wound up the line.
"Just take up a stone and throw it at him."

Stanley looked surprised, for he imagined that such a proceeding would
frighten the fish and cause it to snap the line; but seeing that Frank
was in earnest, he did as he was directed. No sooner had the stone sunk
than the startled fish once more dashed across the river; then taking a
downward course, it sped like an arrow to the brink of the rough water
below. To have allowed the salmon to go down the rapid would have been
to lose it, so Frank arrested the spinning of his reel and held on. For
a second or two the rod bent almost in a circle, and the line became
fearfully rigid.

"You'll break it, Frank," cried Stanley, in some anxiety.

"It can't be helped," said Frank, compressing his lips; "he must not go
down there. The tackle is new; I think it will hold him."

Fortunately the tackle proved to be very good. The fish was arrested,
and after one or two short runs, which showed that its vigour was
abated, it was drawn carefully towards the rocks. As it drew near it
rolled over on its side once or twice--an evident sign of being much
exhausted.

"Now, Stanley, be careful," said Frank, as his friend stepped cautiously
towards the fish and extended the gaff. "I've seen many a fine salmon
escape owing to careless gaffing. Don't be in a hurry. Be sure of your
distance before you strike, and do it quickly. Now, then--there--give
it him! Hurrah!" he shouted, as Stanley passed the iron hook neatly
into the side of the fish, and lifted it high and dry on the rocks.

The cheer to which Frank gave vent, on this successful termination to
the struggle, was re-echoed heartily by several of the men, who, on
passing the spot with their loads, had paused and become deeply
interested spectators of the sport.

"Powerful big fish, sir," said Bryan, throwing down his pack and taking
up the salmon by the gills. "Twinty pounds at laste, av it's an ounce."

"Scarcely that, Bryan," said Stanley; "but it's not much less, I
believe."

"Ah! oui, 'tis ver' pritty. Ver' superb for supper," remarked La Roche.

The little Frenchman was right in saying that it was pretty. Unlike the
ordinary salmon, it was marked with spots like a trout, its head was
small and its shoulders plump, while its silvery purity