side to the 'pound,' the net was partly hauled up, and the professor
took out his punch and the buttons. Colin had put on a pair of rubber
boots and oilskin trousers, as had all the rest of the party, and he was
ready for anything that came along.

"Do you want my slicker?" the professor asked him. "You're apt to get
splashed."

"I don't mind a bit, thanks," answered the boy, rolling up his sleeves;
"a little shower-bath will feel good on a hot day like this!"

"All right, then," the leader of the party declared, "we'll give you a
chance to make yourself useful. Here you are!"

Colin took the large flat-bottomed net and awaited further instructions.

"Catch one of the salmon," he was told; "never mind the rest of the
fish. And," he was warned, "don't bring the net clear out of the water."

"Very well, sir," the boy replied, then his curiosity getting the better
of him, he asked, "Why not?"

"Because if you do, the salmon will struggle against the meshes of the
net, bruise himself, and probably scrape off some scales. I told you how
easy it is for a fish to get diseased if he loses any of his scales. If
you keep the net about four inches below the water, the fish has the
resistance of the water to fight against, and it will tire him out
quickly without doing any harm."

"All right," Colin answered, and commenced scooping for the fish. In a
minute or two he had a large twenty-pounder in the net and he raised it
until the bottom was a little below the water, as he had been told.

"You're right about getting wet!" cried Colin, laughing, as the salmon
began to whirl and plunge and dance in the net, sending a shower of
water all over him and nearly blinding him by the force with which the
drops of water struck as they were splashed upwards by the powerful
strokes of the fish's tail.

The instant the salmon stopped struggling, the hatchery boatman seized
it by the tail with a strong grip, swung it clear out of the net and
over his left arm, laying it immediately on the measuring platform. This
consisted merely of a wide board with an upright at one end, a rule
giving both metrical and standard measures being nailed to the side of
the board. Instantly the measurer called out the length and the
professor noted it down, the hatchery foreman--famous for his expertness
in judging the weight of a fish--calling out the weight to be recorded.
Laying down his pencil, the professor then, with a small punch, made a
tiny hole i