On and on swam Sammy following the stream as it twisted and turned now
in the shadow, now in the moonlight. Now it flowed along straight and
smooth with scarcely a ripple, its banks sweet with dew-soaked wild
flowers, and now it dashed against a huge rock which partly blocked
its path, or glided swiftly over shallow rapids.

All night long Sammy kept on his way, and all the time he felt that he
was gradually going down, down, down, as the stream crept towards the
sea.

The next morning he found himself in a strange country. The little
stream down which he had been traveling had become a river. There were
houses here and there on the shores, cultivated fields and
pasture-lands, and in some places cattle browsed on the banks, or
stood knee-deep in the water.

The strange sights and sounds filled Sammy with awe, and something
like fear. He kept carefully in deep water and occasionally hid under
a rock when he saw a big, strange fish approaching, for he knew that
large fish often ate smaller ones.

Once in a while he stopped to ask a question of some brother salmon as
to the right way to go, but the answer was always, "Follow the river
and you can't go wrong," and follow the river he did.

When noon came he was fortunate enough to catch several fat flies,
which made a delicious meal. Then he rested and dozed for a time in
the shade of the bank, after which, feeling much refreshed, he started
again on his journey.