Her little look of determination increased. She was flushed now. Under
the slightly increased effort she made the salmon began to yield, taking
short darts from side to side, which began to grow shorter.

"Walk down a little with him, to bring him into shallower water," I
advised, and took the gaff from Yves. Then I waded in until I was knee
deep and kept very still, but the fish took another run.

"Never mind," I cried, "keep on fighting even if your arms are ready to
drop. A steady pull on him. That's fine! Bring him again a little nearer.
That's the way! He is mighty tired now; just a bit nearer. Good enough!"

The iron of the gaff disappeared under water. Miss Jelliffe was giving
him the butt, and her lips quivered. Then I made a quick move and a
splashing mass of silver rose out of the stream with mighty struggling. I
hurried ashore with it and held it up.

The great contest was over. Miss Jelliffe put down the rod and her arms
sank down to her side, wearily, yet in another moment she knelt down upon
the mossy grass beside the beautiful salmon.

"Oh! Isn't it a beauty!" she cried. "Thank you ever so much! Wasn't it a
wonderful fight he made! I could never have managed it without your help.
You're a very good teacher, you know, and I can understand now why you
men just get crazy over salmon fishing. I'll be just as crazy as any one
from now on. How much does he weigh?"

I pulled out my spring scale and hooked up the fish. We all watched
eagerly as the pointer went down.