132 ANGLING & ART IN SCOTLAND 



was blowing from the north-west. In spite of the 

 inclemency of the weather, we had determined to 

 try our luck on the loch, and with the help of 

 Duncan and his launch to cross the dreaded Pass, 

 in order to fish certain sheltered bays on the farther 

 side. No other party would venture forth that 

 morning, and much cold water was thrown upon 

 our project ; nevertheless, as we could see steam 

 ascending from the launch, we had the flag duly 

 hoisted as a signal for Duncan to come to the pier. 

 It was, however, one thing to hoist the flag and 

 another to get Duncan to the pier. He evidently 

 considered the weather not good enough. 



After waiting for ten minutes, and seeing that 

 no move was being made, we determined — like 

 Mahomet and the mountain — to make our way to 

 Duncan ; for we concluded that he did not deem 

 it wise to run the risk of bringing the launch along- 

 side the landing-stage. Happily, we had a keen 

 and excellent boatman who made no objection to 

 facing the storm, and, each of us taking an oar, we 

 started out in the teeth of the gale. 



For a tough half-hour we struggled manfully 

 amid the encouragements or jeers of the spectators, 

 until we were within a hundred yards of our goal, 



