of the line as the fish went up the pool and down the pool, and
crossed the current in his efforts to escape. The only self-possessed
person, indeed, was Lavender himself, who presently said, "Miss
Mackenzie, won't you take the rod now and have the honor of landing
him? I don't think he will show much more fight."

At this moment, however, the line slackened suddenly, and the fish
threw himself clean out of the water, turning a complete summersault.
It was a dangerous moment, but the captive was well hooked, and in his
next plunge Lavender was admonished by Duncan to keep a good strain on
him.

"I will take the second one," Sheila promised, "if you like; but you
must surely land your first salmon yourself."

I suppose nobody but a fisherman can understand the generosity of the
offer made by the young man. To have hooked your first salmon--to have
its first wild rushes and plunges safely over--and to offer to another
the delight of bringing him victoriously to bank! But Sheila knew. And
what could have surpassed the cleverness with which he had hooked the
fish, and the coolness and courage he showed throughout the playing of
him, except this more than royal offer on the part of the young hero?

The fish was losing strength. All the line had been got in, although
the fore finger of the fisherman felt the pulse of his captive, as it
were, ready for any expiring plunge. They caught occasional glimpses
of a large white body gliding through the ruddy-brown water. Duncan
was down on his knees more than once, with the landing-net in his
hand, but again and again the big fish would sheer off, with just
such indications of power as to make his conqueror cautious. At length