104 ANGLING SKETCHES 



stuck to the fish, and got him into the watery 

 wood, and then he went where the lost trout go. 

 No more came on, so I floundered a yard or two 

 farther, and climbed into a wild-fowl's nest, a kind 

 of platform of matted reeds, all yellow and faded. 

 The nest immediately sank down deep into the 

 water, but it stopped somewhere, and I made a 

 cast. The black water boiled, and the trout went 

 straight down and sulked. I merely held on, till 

 at last it seemed ' time for us to go,' and by 

 cautious tugging I got him through the reedy 

 jungle, and ' gruppit him,' as the Shepherd would 

 have said. He was simply but decently wrapped 

 round, from snout to tail, in very fine water-weeds, 

 as in a garment. Moreover, he was as black as 

 your hat, quite unlike the comely yellow trout who 

 live on the gravel in Clearburn. It hardly seemed 

 sensible to get drowned in this gruesome kind of 

 angling, so, leaving the Lake 1 of Darkness, we made 

 for Buccleugh, passing the cleugh where the buck 

 was ta'en. Surely it is the deepest, the steepest, 

 and the greenest cleugh that is shone on by the 

 sun ! Thereby we met an angler, an ancient man 



