“Yes. The salmon is a mysterious creature. We know little about him; but we do know that with rising water, or rapidly rising warmth of water, he seems to lose curiosity as to flies. Come along.”
“I think[“I think] my own curiosity collapses in hot weather,” said Anne.
There was now a steady fall of rain, but, well protected, they reached the pool.
“How black the water is!” said Rose. Tom sat quiet without the least cover, and took the ducking as if it were a matter of course. Now he adjusted a rather large Jock Scott. Then Rose began to cast, while Lyndsay sat behind her and smoked.
“Couldn’t I stand?” she said.
“Yes. You will cast better, and take care you don’t catch the handle of the reel in your wraps. Give the back cast a little more time. Count one, two, three quickly. You do very well. You will soon get the trick of it.”
“You riz him!” roared Tom, for there was a mighty swash, and half a salmon came into view.
“Sit down. Wait a little.”
“Will he—do you think he will rise again?”
“If I knew, dear, it would save much needless casting. Will a young man propose twice, thrice? Who can say?”