across the
stream. The rod was going back expertly, just slightly over her right
shoulder, and the line whizzed overhead.
"Easy," I advised her; "it is a longer rod than you are used to."
She waited properly until the line had straightened out behind her, and
cast again.
"That is plenty, now for that rock, Miss Jelliffe," I said.
There was another cast, with a slight twist of her supple waist. The fly
flew out, falling two or three yards beyond the rock and she pulled back,
gently, her lure rippling the dark surface. Then came a faint splash, a
vision of a silvery gleam upon the water, which smoothed down again while
the line came back as light as ever.
"Easy, easy, don't cast again in the same place," I advised.
She obeyed, but sore disappointment was in her eyes.
"Did I do anything wrong?" she asked, eagerly.
"Not a bit. He never touched the fly. But I always like to wait a minute
before casting again after a rise, and I think we will put on a smaller
Doctor. His attention has been awakened and he will be more likely to
take it."
I quickly changed the fly and Miss Jelliffe, with grim determination,
went to work again. Soon she brought the lure over the exact spot but met
with no response. Once more without the faintest sign of a rise. A third
time, and suddenly the reel sang out and a gleaming bolt shot out of the
water.
"Now steady, Miss Jelliffe! Easy on his mouth. Let him run. If he
slackens reel in. That's the way! We'll have to follow him a little, but
try to keep him from going down stream too far."
Her eyes were eager and her face flushed with the excitement. The wisps
of her glorious hair were floating in the wind as she stepped along the
bank, steadily, while I stood at her side without touching her, but with
a hand ready in case of a slip or a misstep. Frenchy followed us,
carrying a big landing-net and a gaff. His face bore a wide grin and he
was jumping with excitement.
The fish turned and took a run up the pool, again shooting out of the
water in a splendid leap. Then he turned once more, giving Miss Jelliffe
a chance to reel in some line. For a short time he swam about slowly, as
if deeply considering a plan of conduct. At any rate this was followed by
furious fighting; he was up in the air again, and down to the bottom of
the pool, and dashing hither and yon, the line cleaving the water. At
times he seemed to try to shake his jaws free from the hook. Miss
Jelliffe was now pale
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