per to say that my companion was a novice at fly-fishing,
never having cast a fly till upon this trip.

Again he called out to me, but, deceived by his coolness and nonchalant
tones, and by the lethargy a glimpse of the fish, I gave little heed.
of the fish, I gave little heed. I knew very well that, if I had struck
a fish that held me down in that way, I should have been going through
a regular war-dance on that circle of boulder-tops, and should have
scared the game into activity if the hook had failed to wake him up.
But as the farce continued I drew near.

"Does that look like a stone or a log?" said my friend, pointing to his
quivering line, slowly cutting the current up toward the centre of the
pool.

My skepticism vanished in an instant, and I could hardly keep my place
on the top of the rock.

"I can feel him breathe," said the now warming fisherman; "just feel
of that pole!"

I put my eager hand upon the butt, and could easily imagine I felt the
throb or pant of something alive down there in the black depths. But
whatever it was moved about like a turtle. My companion was praying to
hear his reel spin, but it gave out now and then only a few hesitating
clicks. Still the situation was excitingly dramatic, and we were all
actors. I rushed for the landing-net, but being unable to find it,
shouted desperately for Joe, who came hurrying back, excited before he
had learned what the matter was. The net had been left at the lake
below, and must be had with the greatest dispatch. In the mean time I
skipped about from boulder to boulder as the fish worked this way or
that about the pool, peering into the water to catch a glimpse of him,
for he had begun to yield a little to the steady strain that was kept
upon him. Presently I saw a shadowy, unsubstantial something just
emerge from the black depths, then vanish. Then I saw it again, and
this time the huge proportions of the fish were faintly outlined by the
white facings of his fins. The sketch lasted but a twinkling; it was
only a flitting shadow upon a darker background, but it gave me the
profoundest Ike Walton thrill I ever experienced. I had been a fisher
from my earliest boyhood. I came from a race of fishers; trout streams
gurgled about the roots of the family tree, and there was a long
accumulated and transmitted tendency and desire in me that that sight
gratified. I did not wish the pole in my own hands; there was quite
enough electricity overflowing from