260 DAYS AND NIGHTS OF SALMON FISHING 



notwithstanding we in some measure moderated it 

 by capping our best with the leisters. Bang went 

 the boat's broadside right against the rock, to which 

 she stuck fast till the stream above poured into her 

 in the most effective possible style, and down she 

 went of course. The water, however, was by no 

 means deep ; but those fish, which we had taken 

 since the load went home, found their way again 

 into the river, and began to vanish down the streams. 

 Being deprived of life, they went passively along, 

 followed by all the boat's crew, who rushed about 

 and charged with their leisters, " hurry, hurry, 

 spalsh, spalsh," till they fished out most of them, the 

 remainder being left to solace the eels. This in 

 common parlance would be called a disaster ; a sort 

 of shipwreck in miniature ; but judging from the 

 merriment it excited, it might be deemed the best 

 sport of the night. 



Whilst these gambols were carrying on, and the 

 men were rolling about in the waters, after the guise 

 of sea calves, Charlie Purdie and I had got the boat 

 to the shore, and heaving her upon her side, had 

 poured the water out : " And now, Purdie/' said I, 

 " whilst these clever fellows are catching dead fish, 

 do tell me what you all meant by shouting out 

 ' auld Michael ! ' and calling for the charm at the 

 Brig-end Pool ? " 



" Why ye mun ken that Michael Scott, who lived 

 in bygane times, was a warlock, and I cud tell ye 

 mony wonderfu' cracks aboot him, for the hale 

 country rings wi' his foul deeds. Mony years syne 

 there was a brig at yon cast, but the spate ran away 



