WILD SPORTS OF THE HIGHLANDS 



ending in a sharp hook, with which he strikes the salmon 

 as they stop for a moment to rest in some eddy of the boil- 

 ing torrent before taking their final leap up the fall. Watch 

 forafewmoments.andyou will see the old man make a pec- 

 uliar plunge and jerk with his long clip into the rushing 

 water, and then hoisting it into the air he displays a strug- 

 glingsalmon impaled on the end of the staff, glancing like a 

 piece of silver as itendeavourstoescape. Perhaps it tumbles 

 off the hook, and dropping into the water, floats wounded 

 away, to fall a prey to the otter or fox in some shallow below. 

 If,however,thefishis securely hooked, there ensues astrug- 

 gle between it and the old man, who, by a twist of his stick, 

 turns himself and the fish towards the dry rock, and having 

 shaken the salmon off the hook, and despatched it with a 

 blow from a short cudgel which he keeps for the purpose, 

 covers it carefully up with wet grass,and lowering the peak 

 of his cap over his eyes,resumes his somewhat ticklish seat 

 on the rock to wait for the next fish. On some days, when 

 the water is of the right height, and the fish are numerous 

 and inclined to run up the river, the old man catches a con- 

 siderable number ; though the capture of every fish is only 

 attained by a struggle of life and death between man and 

 salmon, fortheleastslip would sendthe former intotheriver, 

 whencehecouldnever come out alive. I never see himcatch 

 one without feeling fully convinced that he will follow the 

 example of his predecessor in the place, who was washed 

 awayonefinedayfromtherock.and not found for some days, 

 when his bodywas taken outoftheriverseveralmilesbelow. 

 In these pools (every one of which has a name) you will see 

 some sportsman angling, not like the sans-culotte shep- 



306 



