At this moment, however, the line slackened suddenly, and the fish threw himself clean out of the water, turning a complete summersault.  It was a dangerous moment, but the captive was well hooked, and in his next plunge Lavender was admonished by Duncan to keep a good strain on him.

“I will take the second one,” Sheila promised, “if you like; but you must surely land your first salmon yourself.”

I suppose nobody but a fisherman can understand the generosity of the offer made by the young man.  To have hooked your first salmon—­to have its first wild rushes and plunges safely over—­and to offer to another the delight of bringing him victoriously to bank!  But Sheila knew.  And what could have surpassed the cleverness with which he had hooked the fish, and the coolness and courage he showed throughout the playing of him, except this more than royal offer on the part of the young hero?

The fish was losing strength.  All the line had been got in, although the fore finger of the fisherman felt the pulse of his captive, as it were, ready for any expiring plunge.  They caught occasional glimpses of a large white body gliding through the ruddy-brown water.  Duncan was down on his knees more than once, with the landing-net in his hand, but again and again the big fish would sheer off, with just such indications of power as to make his conqueror cautious.  At length he was guided slowly in to the bank.  Behind him the landing-net was gently let into the water—­then a quick forward movement, and a fourteen-pounder was scooped up and flung upon the bank, landing-net and all.  “Hurrah!” cried Ingram, and Lavender blushed like a school-girl; and Sheila, quite naturally and without thinking, shook hands with him and said, “I congratulate you;” and there was more congratulation in her glad eyes than in that simple little gesture.

It was a good beginning, and of course the young man was very much pleased to show Sheila that he was no mere lily-fingered idler about town.  He buckled to his work in earnest.  With a few more casts he soon got into the way of managing the big rod; and every time the flies fell lightly on the other side of the pool, to be dragged with gentle jerks across the foaming current of the stream.  Ingram went back to his couch on the rock.  He lay and watched the monotonous flinging back of the long rod, the light whistle of the line through the air, and the careful manipulation of the flies through the water.  Or was it something else that he was watching—­something that awakened in his mind a sudden sense of surprise and fear, and a new and strange consciousness that he had been guiltily remiss?

Sheila was wholly preoccupied with her companion and his efforts.  He had had one or two rises, but had struck either too soon or too late, until at last there was a terrific plunge and rush, and again the line was whirled out.  But Duncan did not like the look of it, somehow.  The fish had been sheering off when it was hooked, and the deep plunge at the outset was ugly.