on the surface, she struck up her rod slightly, and the next moment away went her line tearing through the water, while the reel screamed out its joyous note of recognition.  Old Robert jumped to his feet.  At the same instant the fish made another appalling rush, far away on the opposite side of the river, and at the end of it flashed into the air—­a swift gleam of purple-blue and silver that revealed his splendid size.  Lionel was quite breathless with excitement.  He dared not speak to her, for fear of distracting her attention.  But she was apparently quite calm; and old Robert looked on without any great solicitude, as if he knew that his young mistress needed neither advice nor assistance.  Meanwhile the salmon had come back into the middle of the stream, where it lay deep, only giving evidence of its existence by a series of vicious tugs.

“I don’t like that tugging, Robert,” she said.  “He knows too much.  He has pulled himself free from a fly before.”

“Ay, ay, I’m afraid of that too,” old Robert said, with his keen eyes fixed on every movement of the straining line.

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.”