"Certainly. You can come back whenever you want to," I assured her.

"Don't you really care, Daddy?" she asked her father.

"What I care for is broiled salmon, fresh caught and such as has not been
drowned in a net like a vulgar herring," answered the latter.

We were away in a few minutes, walking briskly down to the cove, where we
entered a dory which Frenchy propelled. Our craft was soon beached at the
mouth of the small river and we walked up the bank by the side of the
brawling water. When we reached the first pool we sat down on the rocks
while I moistened a long leader and opened my fly-book.

"I think we will begin with a Jock Scott," I proposed.

"No, let us try a Silver Doctor," she urged me. "It seems best adapted to
present company. It's just a fancy I have, and I'm generally lucky."

As we were speaking a silver crescent leaped from the still surface,
flashed for a second in the sunlight and came down again to disappear in
the ruffled water.

"Heem a saumon magnifique!" exclaimed Yves.

"You must try for him, Miss Jelliffe," I said. "You are to make good that
statement that you are lucky. There is a big rock under the water, just
over there where you see that dark spot. He will be likely to rest there.
It is a beautiful clean run fish. Now take my rod and cast well up stream
and draw your fly back so that it will pass over that spot."