ther check. Occasionally you
may lose a fish this way, but in the long run you gain, and after a
little practice you will get into the trick of bringing the grilse on
his side submissively into the net. The butt, however, must be applied
at the proper moment, and when the proper stage of exhaustion is
reached can be told only by experience. To return, however, to the
formulas. The fish, being in the net and landed, is handled by myself
only; the eager, sportsmanlike instinct of your man will have to be
repressed, his first idea being to seize it and knock it on the head
with a stone. I have sufficient respect for either salmon or grilse to
finish them with the orthodox priest, and that also is a function I
like to perform myself. Then comes the extraction of the hook, always
an interesting, because instructive, formula for the angler. Next
follows the satisfaction of weighing the game with a spring balance,
and then seeing that it is deposited in the boat with a covering of
ling or alder leaves as a protection against flies or sun.

Returning now to my evening, I may explain that Ole was absent on
leave, and that Knut, who was a most intelligent young fellow and the
schoolmaster of the village, was anxious to use the gaff or net as the
case may be. Having caught a 3 1/2-lb. grilse on a small Butcher, I
fished down Pot Pool very leisurely without a touch. After a fair
interval I removed the small fly and elected to take my chance
thereafter with a Jock Scott of larger size. It was now about eight
o'clock, and we went down the pool again, having a brief run with
probably a grilse, which held fast only a moment or two; then I was
becoming conscious again of the monotony of fruitless casting when
there was a splendid spin of the winch. This, I confess, was of such a
nature that I rose at once and determined to take my reward or
punishment, as it might happen, standing. It was an undoubted salmon,
for fifty yards down out of the water he came, the winch, curiously
enough, screaming all the time, and never ceasing when he fell in with
a loud splash and resumed his run. I had about 115 yards of line on my
winch, and I noticed, just as the fish moderated his express speed,
that there could not have been ten yards left.

He was fighting all the time. Knut, fortunately, understood my
directions to follow him down instead of pulling up-stream and a little
across, as he usually did, and I was able at least to winch i