“Let her go, then. Steady, Rose, keep a strain on him.”
“But I am nearly dead!”
“You will come to. Quick! Drop the tip!” for as they fled down-stream, the boat dancing, the water splashing in, the poles, now pushing, now snubbing the canoe, the salmon made a leap high in air, and fell across the taut line, which came back free, while Rose looked around in disgusted amazement.
“He is gone!” she said.
“Yes. You should have lowered the tip when he jumped. But think how pleased he is, my dear!”
“I hate him!”
“He has got half a leader and a good silver doctor,” said her father. “You can quote Browning, dear, ‘The Last Leader.’”
“For shame! I knew those things must be weak. I would have a good, thick rope.”
“You wouldn’t take many fish, miss,” said Tom, grinning.
“What are these wretched leaders made of?” said Rose.