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.”

“I have been watching you so often,” said he, modestly, “that I must have learned something.  And now you must take all the pools on the way home.  I won’t touch the rod again unless when wading is absolutely necessary.  You see.  I have no right to this salmon at all; I consider you have made me a present of him.”

“We must try and get another somehow, between us, before getting back to the lodge,” said she; and this unconscious coupling of themselves as companions sounded pleasant to his ears.

Moreover, as old Robert had now the fish to carry, Lionel, as usual, made bold to claim Miss Honnor’s waterproof, which he slung over his arm; and that also was a privilege he greatly enjoyed.  Indeed, his satisfaction as they now proceeded to walk along to the Horseshoe Pool was but natural in the circumstances.  This charming companionship secured all to himself—­the capture of the salmon—­the tribute that had been paid to his skill—­the magnetic waterproof hanging over his arm—­the prospect of a long ramble home on this beautiful afternoon:  all these things combined were surely sufficient to put any young man in an excellent humor.  And there was something more in store for him.