Then the fish lay still and sulked; and she took the opportunity of moving a little bit up-stream and reeling in a yard or two. "Would you like to take the rod now, Mr. Moore?" she said, generously. "Oh, certainly not," he exclaimed. "I would not for worlds you should lose the salmon--and do you think I could take the responsibility?" He ceased speaking, for he saw that her attention had once more been drawn to the salmon, which was now calmly and steadily making up-stream. He watched the slow progress of the line; and then, to his horror, he perceived that the fish was heading for the other side of a large gray rock that stood in mid-channel. If he should persist in boring his way up that farther current, would not he inevitably cut the line on the rock? What could she do? Still nearer and nearer to the big boulder went that white line, steadily cutting through the brown water; and still she said not a word, though Lionel fancied she was now putting on a heavier strain. At last the line was almost touching the stone; and there the salmon lay motionless. He was within half a yard of certain freedom, if only he had known; for the water was far too deep to allow of old Robert wading in and getting the line over the rock. But just as Lionel, far more excited than the fisher-maiden herself, was wondering what was going to happen next, the whole situation of affairs was reversed in a twinkling; the salmon suddenly turned and dashed away down-stream until it was right at the end of the pool, and there, in deep water on the other side, it resumed its determined tugging, so that the pliant top of the rod was shaken as if by a human hand. "That is what frightens me," she said to Lionel. "I don't like that at all." But what could he do to help her? Eager wishes were of no avail; and yet he felt as if the crowning joy of his life would be to see that splendid big fish safely out there on the bank. All his faculties seemed to be absorbed in the contemplation of that momentous struggle. The past and the future were alike cut off from him--he had forgotten all about the theatre and its trumpery applause--he had no thought but for the unseen creature underneath the water, that was dashing its head from side to side, and then boring down, and then sailing away over to the opposite shallows, exhausting every manoeuvre to regain its liberty. He could not speak to her; what was anything he could say as compared with the tremendous importance of the next movement on the part of the fish? But she was calm enough. "He doesn't tire himself much, Robert," she said. "He keeps all his strength for that tugging."