Good times and bad times and all times
pass, so here goes. It is correct to begin a good way above him and
come down to him. I'm past him; no, there is a long heavy drag under
water, I get the point up, he is off like a shot, while I stand in a
rather stupid attitude, holding on. If I cannot get out and run down
the bank, he has me at his mercy. I do stagger out, somehow, falling
on my back, but keeping the point up with my right hand. No bones
broken, but surely he is gone! I begin reeling up the line, with a
heavy heart, and try to lift it out of the water. It won't come, he
is here still, he has only doubled back. Hooray! Nothing so nice
as being all alone when you hook a salmon. No gillie to scream out
contradictory orders. He is taking it very easy, but suddenly he moves
out a few yards, and begins jiggering, that is, giving a series of
short heavy tugs. They say he is never well hooked, when he jiggers.
The rod thrills unpleasantly in my hands, I wish he wouldn't do that.
It is very disagreeable and makes me very nervous. Hullo! he is off
again up-stream, the reel ringing like mad: he gets into the thin
water at the top, and jumps high in the air.
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