ON THE LYON. 193 



tion. He had been out since the dawn, he said, 

 but " hadna steered a fin" or seen a fish " a' day." 

 To punish old Slyboots, a fine salmon floundered 

 up at this moment before us, as if to give him 

 the lie direct. The confusion on " Belltow's" face 

 and the smirk on Mac's were rare fun. He saw 

 at once that the old man had not only seen this 

 fish, but (as we afterwards were told by the 

 Meggernie keeper was fact) had most likely 

 thrown over it, and was " waiting on" for another 

 trial when he heard our approach. His tactics, 

 then, were to hide himself; and if found out, to 

 feign sleep, but at all events to conceal from us 

 that there was a feeding salmon in the pool. 



Taking post about twenty yards above the fish, 

 I threw cautiously over him with my dark fly, and 

 at the first free sweep he sprang beautifully and 

 fastened. He first struck across the stream, and 

 then made some fine bursts up and down the pool 

 before I could tire him. In the thick of it I 

 heard the old man's "Gie't line, Gie't line," to 

 which, of course, I paid no respect, and Mac vainly 

 trying to keep him quiet. When gaffed, this sal- 

 mon proved a 12-pounder, and fresh from the sea. 

 N 



