For away went that little wretch again, tearing over to the other side, where he lashed and better lashed the surface; and then, getting tired of that exercise, he somewhat sullenly came sailing into mid-stream, where there was a smooth, dark current, bounded on the side next the fisherman by some brown shelves of rock only a few inches under water. And what must this demon of a fish do but begin boring into the stream, so that every moment the line was being drawn nearer and nearer to the knife-like edge. "Here, Robert, what am I to do now?" Lionel cried, in dismay. "Another couple of inches, and it's all over! How are we to get him out of that hole?" "Mebbe he'll no go mich deeper," Robert observed, calmly, but with his gray eyes keenly watching. "If I lose this fish," Lionel said, between his teeth, "I'll throw myself into the pool after him!" "You'd better not," said Miss Cunyngham, placidly, "for if Robert has to gaff you, you'll find it a very painful experience." But now the line was slackening a little; the fisherman reeled in quickly; the salmon made his appearance--undoubtedly yielding; and then, coming over the shallow rocks in obedience to the pressure of the rod, he once more sailed into the black, clear pool just below them. Cautiously old Robert crept down. When he was close to the water, he bared his right arm and grasped the gaff by the handle; then he waited and watched, for the salmon was still too deep. Lionel, meanwhile, had got back a bit on the rock, so that any sudden rush might not snap the top of his rod in two; then he also waited and watched, but somewhat increasing the pressure on the fish. Miss Honnor was probably as interested as either of them, but she only said, [Illustration: "_Cautiously old Robert crept down. When he was close to the water, he bared his right arm and grasped the gaff by the handle._"] "I think he is well-hooked, and you'll get him, but don't bear too hardly on him for all that." The conclusion of the fight proved to be a series of rapid and cautious skirmishes between the salmon and old Robert; for, as soon as the former discovered that danger awaited him at the foot of the rock, he made every possible effort to break away, and then, getting more and more exhausted, allowed himself to be led in again. And then at last, on his sailing in almost on his side, so dead beat was he, a firm stroke of the gaff caught him behind the shoulder, and the next moment he was in mid-air, the next again on the bare rock. Now when you have slain a stag one day, it is not so much of a triumph to kill a salmon the next; nevertheless Lionel was as heartily glad to see that fish ashore as he would have been deeply mortified had it escaped. For was not Honnor Cunyngham looking on? Nay, she was kind enough to say to him, "You played that fish very well, Mr. Moore."