e also. They came to know me and look for me. They lay in
wait at the waterfalls up which I leaped like a silver flash. They held
out nets for me; they hid traps under leaves; they made cords of the
colour of water, of the colour of weeds--but this salmon had a nose that
knew how a weed felt and how a string--they drifted meat on a sightless
string, but I knew of the hook; they thrust spears at me, and threw
lances which they drew back again with a cord. Many a wound I got from
men, many a sorrowful scar.

"Every beast pursued me in the waters and along the banks; the barking,
black-skinned otter came after me in lust and gust and swirl; the wild
cat fished for me; the hawk and the steep-winged, spear-beaked birds
dived down on me, and men crept on me with nets the width of a river,
so that I got no rest. My life became a ceaseless scurry and wound and
escape, a burden and anguish of watchfulness--and then I was caught."

CHAPTER XI

"THE fisherman of Cairill, the King of Ulster, took me in his net. Ah,
that was a happy man when he saw me! He shouted for joy when he saw the
great salmon in his net.

"I was still in the water as he hauled delicately. I was still in the
water as he pulled me to the bank. My nose touched air and spun from it
as from fire, and I dived with all my might against the bottom of the
net, holding yet to the water, loving it, mad with terror that I must
quit that loveliness. But the net held and I came up.

"'Be quiet, King of the River,' said the fisherman, 'give in to Doom,'
said he.

"I was in air, and it was as though I were in fire. The air pressed on
me like a fiery mountain. It beat on my scales and scorched them. It
rushed down my throat and scalded me. It weighed on me and squeezed me,
so that my eyes felt as though they must burst from my head, my head as
though it would leap from my body, and my body as though it would swell
and expand and fly in a thousand pieces.

"The light blinded me, the heat tormented me, the dry air made me
shrivel and gasp; and, as he lay on the grass, the great salmon whirled
his desperate nose once more to the river, and leaped, leaped, leaped,
even under the mountain of air. He could leap upwards, but not forwards,
and yet he leaped, for in each rise he could see the twinkling waves,
the rippling and curling waters.

"'Be at ease, O King,' said the fisherman. 'Be at rest, my beloved. Let
go the stream. Let the oozy marge be forgotten, and the san