She obeyed, but sore disappointment was in her eyes.
"Did I do anything wrong?" she asked, eagerly.
"Not a bit. He never touched the fly. But I always like to wait a minute before casting again after a rise, and I think we will put on a smaller Doctor. His attention has been awakened and he will be more likely to take it."
I quickly changed the fly and Miss Jelliffe, with grim determination, went to work again. Soon she brought the lure over the exact spot but met with no response. Once more without the faintest sign of a rise. A third time, and suddenly the reel sang out and a gleaming bolt shot out of the water.
"Now steady, Miss Jelliffe! Easy on his mouth. Let him run. If he slackens reel in. That's the way! We'll have to follow him a little, but try to keep him from going down stream too far."
Her eyes were eager and her face flushed with the excitement. The wisps of her glorious hair were floating in the wind as she stepped along the bank, steadily, while I stood at her side without touching her, but with a hand ready in case of a slip or a misstep. Frenchy followed us, carrying a big landing-net and a gaff. His face bore a wide grin and he was jumping with excitement.
The fish turned and took a run up the pool, again shooting out of the water in a splendid leap. Then he turned once more, giving Miss Jelliffe a chance to reel in some line. For a short time he swam about slowly, as if deeply considering a plan of conduct. At any rate this was followed by furious fighting; he was up in the air again, and down to the bottom of the pool, and dashing hither and yon, the line cleaving the water. At times he seemed to try to shake his jaws free from the hook. Miss Jelliffe was now pale from the excitement of it. Her teeth were close set, excepting when she uttered sharp little exclamations of fear and renewed hope. But always she met his every move, deftly, and was quick to follow my words of advice. Then followed a period of sulking, when he went down deep and refused to budge, with the tense line vibrating a little with the push of the current. I began to meditate on the wisdom or folly of throwing a stone in the water to make him move, but suddenly he cut short my cogitations and shot away again, heading up-stream.
"Fight him just a bit harder, Miss Jelliffe," I advised. "Don't allow him to get rested and try to put a little more strain on the rod; it can stand it and I'm sure he's well hooked."
"But my arms are getting paralyzed," she complained, with a little tense laugh. "They are beginning to feel as if they would never move again."
"I should be glad to take the rod," I said, "but afterwards you would never forgive me. I know that you want to land that fish yourself."