114 ANGLING & ART IN SCOTLAND 



in to mend a bedroom cupboard, remarking that it 

 would be better to fix another hook in the north-east 

 corner. 



So it was that to my last remark Ronald an- 

 swered, "Very well, sir, then we will be steppin' 

 west." 



The loch is two miles from the inn door, but in 

 less than half-an-hour we were at the boat. 



It is a picturesque sheet of water, this Loch 

 Poulary — a widening of the river, a mile long by a 

 quarter in breadth, with a birch-covered promontory 

 running out into it from a steep hill-side on the 

 south ; while stretching away to the westward, at 

 the head, may be seen the dead-water of the river, 

 leading the eye upward to a bold and precipitous 

 mountain — one of the many rugged hills which 

 surround Loch Ouoich. 



The rain had raised the level of the loch nearly 

 three feet, but it would fish all the better for that, 

 for the weeds which in some places cause annoyance 

 were well submerged. 



As Ronald, that most delightful of gillies, rowed 

 steadily up the loch, I busied myself in putting my 

 rod together — an old favourite, one of Hardys' 

 light split-cane trout rods — and selected a cast 



