188 SALMON FISHING IN THE TWEED 



facetiously termed the Mountebank : here he 

 paused, as if meditating whether he should throw 

 his line or not. ' She is very big,' said he to 

 himself, ' but I'll try her ; if I grip him he'll be 

 worth the handing.' He then fished it, a step and 

 a throw, about half way down, when a heavy splash 

 proclaimed that he had raised him, though he 

 missed the fly. Going back a few paces, he came 

 over him again, and hooked him. The first tug 

 verified to Duncan his prognostication, that if he 

 was there ' he would be worth the hauding ' ; but 

 his tackle had thirty plies of hair next the fly, and 

 he held fast, nothing daunted. Give and take 

 went on with dubious advantage, the fish occasion- 

 ally sulking. The thing at length became serious ; 

 and, after a succession of the same tactics, Duncan 

 found himself at the Boat of Aberlour, seven hours 

 after he had hooked his fish, the said fish fast under 

 a stone, and himself completely tired. He had 

 some thoughts of breaking his tackle and giving 

 the thing up ; but he finally hit upon an expedient 

 to rest himself, and at the same time to guard 

 against the surprise and consequence of a sudden 

 movement of the fish. 



" He laid himself down comfortably on the 

 banks, the butt end of his rod in front ; and most 

 ingeniously drew out part of his line, which he 

 held in his teeth. ' If he rugs when I'm sleeping,' 

 said he, ' I think I'll find him noo ' ; and no doubt 

 it is probable that he would. Accordingly, after a 

 comfortable nap of three or four hours, Duncan 

 was awoke by a most unceremonious tug at his 

 jaws. In a moment he was on his feet, his rod 



