Secret of the River by Fred M. White

A few minutes later, having apparently forgotten all about their recent serious discussion, the two friends were on their way to the river.

There, on a long sluggish pool, just above a weir by the side of which was a salmon ladder, were some hundreds of people disporting themselves on a perfect piece of ice. The Wern, as a rule, was a swiftly running river, but here, above the weir, for a quarter of a mile or so, was a deep pool where, in the proper season of the year, the salmon lay on their way to the headwaters of the Wern where, in due time, they spawned, and the young fish came to life. Despite the fact that it was Sunday, practically everybody in the neighbourhood had rushed down to the riverside.