192 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



rushings down, had blown into us sufficient of the 

 vigour of the Highlands to make us, after lunch, 

 anxious to explore our halting-place. 



The only fishing proved to be dapping for small 

 pollack with a long bamboo, tight line and a fairly 

 large white fly. So we turned inland and from an 

 eminence enjoyed a sight of the wondrously island- 

 dotted sea, which was soon glorified by a magnifi- 

 cent sunset that dipped each little island in a 

 separate colour and yet compelled the thought of 

 one great mauve expanse to the undetailing eye. 

 Herring boats, all with the same peculiar drooping 

 foremast, were making their tortuous journey to 

 the distant open sea, submitting themselves to 

 Nature's tingeings as they passed each isle until 

 at last they all became black specks and the scene 

 displayed no sign of motion save those of changing 

 hues. 



The next day we went on to Glenelg by steamer, 

 a trip all too short and speedy for any but the most 

 impatient. Every few minutes the boat seemed 

 to be making straight for land, only to defeat our 

 guess each time by running into an unseen kyle 

 a narrow rapid leading to wider waters. 



We arrived at Glenelg at noon. The hotel is 

 an excellent stopping-place for tourists and anglers 

 and we found a very pleasant company there of 

 whom the greater number were evidently fishermen 

 who, in spite of a long period of drought, wore 

 brave looks that showed they were well accustomed 

 to the freaks of salmon rivers in summer time. 



" Far too low for the slightest hope, Geen," was 

 the greeting of a Spring salmon fisher of my ac- 

 quaintance. 



