Yes, there was no doubt that the salmon was beaten.  He kept coming nearer and nearer to the land, led by the gentle, continuous strain of the pliant top, though ever and anon he would vainly try to head away again into deep water.  It was a beautiful thing to look at:  this huge, gleaming creature taken captive by an almost invisible line, and gradually yielding to inevitable fate.  Joy was in Lionel’s heart.  If he had wondered that any one, for the sake of amusement, should choose to undergo such agonies of anxiety, he wondered no more.  Here was the fierce delight of triumph.  The struggle of force against skill was about over; there was no more tugging now; there were no more frantic rushes or bewildering leaps in the air.  Slowly, slowly the great fish was being led in to shore.  Twice had old Robert warily stretched out his gaff, only to find that the prize was not yet within his reach.  And then, just as the young lady with the firm-set lips said, ‘Now, Robert!’ and just as the gaff was cautiously extended for the third time, the salmon gave a final lurch forward, and the next instant—­before Lionel could tell what had happened—­the fly was dangling helplessly in the air, and the fish was gone.

“Au Yeea!” said Robert, in an undertone, to himself; while Lionel, as soon as he perceived the extent of the catastrophe, felt as though some black horror had fallen over the world.  He could not say a word; he seemed yearning to have the fish for one second again where he had lately seen it—­and then wouldn’t he have gladly jumped into the stream, gaff in hand, to secure the splendid trophy!  But now—­now there was nothing but emptiness and a lifeless waste of hurrying water.

And as regards the young lady?  Well, she smiled—­in a disconcerted way, to be sure; and then she said, with apparent resignation,

“I almost expected it.  I never do hope to get a tugging salmon; all the way through I was saying to myself we shouldn’t land him.  However, there’s no use fretting over lost fish.  We did our best, Robert, didn’t we?”

“Indeed you could not hef done better, Miss Honnor,” said the old gillie.  “There wass no mistake that you made at ahl.”

“Very well,” said she, cheerfully; and she looked in a kindly way towards the old man.  “I did everything right? and as for you, no one will tell me that the best gillie in Ross-shire did anything wrong; so we have nothing to reproach ourselves with, Robert, have we?”

“But it is such a dreadful misfortune!” exclaimed Lionel, who could hardly understand this equanimity.  “Another couple of seconds, and you must have had him.”

“Well, now, Robert,” said she, briskly, “shall we go up and try the tail of the Long Pool?  Or go down to the Stones?”

“We’ll chist go up to the tail of the Long Pool, Miss Honnor,” said he; and he took the rod from her, picked up her waterproof, and set out; while Lionel, without waiting for any further invitation, accompanied her.