VENGEANCE OF JHAPOO THE GOND 245 



concerning the angling to be had in the neighbourhood, 

 delivered himself cannily enough. 



" Yess ! " he replied in his heavy way. " There would be 

 a wee bit fushin' still, but no in any of the lochans ahint 

 the ' hull.' They're feenished ! " he added. 



This was a disappointment ; and it must have shown 

 itself in my face, for, after a lengthy pause, he continued, 

 as if to himself 



" Aweel ! There'll be Lochan Dhu whatever ! A * dour ' 

 loch she'll be forbye. But she'll be a late watter ye ken, 

 and " glancing out of the porch as he followed me into 

 the evening air " it's no that cauld, but ye'll rise a good 

 few troot in her still ! " 



Next morning found me early at Lochan Dhu or " the 

 little black loch " a long deep sheet of dark peat-stained 

 water lying in an obviously once glacier-ploughed valley, 

 sedge-fringed, and with a boggy shore. 



The "troot," which were mostly of small size and dark in 

 hue, were at last rising pretty freely to my flies, and it so 

 happened that, forgetful of the warning of the innkeeper 

 earlier in the day, that I should keep to the eastern shore 

 of the " watter " and well away from the property of some- 

 body whom he had called "the Colonel," and being also 

 deeply engrossed in my sport, I had wandered well down 

 the western side. 



Sitting down to re-tie my flies, with my back to the 

 moor, I suddenly became aware of a step on the heather, 

 and a shadow fell alongside as a hard voice rasped out 



" Who the devil are you, sir, and what are you doing on 

 my water?" 



Glancing up, I saw a strongly-built wiry-looking old 

 gentleman clad in knickerbockers and Norfolk jacket, with 

 a weather-beaten, sun -lined face, and keen dark eyes 

 frowning down on me ; and being somewhat disconcerted 

 at the sudden discovery that I had forgetfully strayed from 

 the eastern side of Lochan Dhu, I blurted out 



