All at once the rod straightened out again, the strain was released, and the line began to slant rapidly away from the boat.
"He's off!" she cried.
"Off, nothing! HE'S GOING TO JUMP.

Look out for him, now!" And then the two watching from the boat, tense and quivering with the drama of the moment, saw that most inspiriting of sights--the "break" of a salmon-trout.

Up he went, from a brusque explosion of ripples and foam--up into the gray of the morning from out the gray of the water: scales all gleaming, hackles all a-bristle; a sudden flash of silver, a sweep as of a scimitar in gray smoke, with a splash, a turmoil, an abrupt burst of troubled sound that stabbed through the silence of the morning, and in a single instant dissipated all the placid calm of the previous hours.
"Keep the line taut," whispered Condy, gritting his teeth.

"When he comes toward you, reel him in; an' if he pulls too hard, give him his head." Blix was breathing fast, her cheeks blazing, her eyes all alight.
"Oh," she gasped, "I'm so afraid I'll lose him! Oh, look at that!" she cried, as the trout darted straight for the bottom, bending the rod till the tip was submerged.

"Condy, I'll lose him--I know I shall; you, YOU take the rod!" "Not for a thousand dollars! Steady, there, he's away again! Oh, talk about SPORT!" Yard by yard Blix reeled in until they began to see the silver glint of the trout's flanks through the green water.