128 DAYS AND NIGHTS OF SALMON FISHING. 



followed as best I might, prancing in the water like a 

 war-horse, with the spray about my ears. Wattie 

 hallooed out, and said I know not what ; but the tone 

 of his voice was far from being complimentary. 

 Nearly all my line of a hundred yards was now run 

 out ; when the fish made a sudden turn, crossed to the 

 opposite bank, and coasted up it amongst the rocks. 

 Here again Wattie was perfectly wild. 



" Gang back, I tell ye, — haud up yer gaud, — shorten 

 yer line, — keep aboon him, ye gomeril ! Ou, ye are 

 drounit as sure as deeth ! Pirn in, pirn in ! — pirn out, 

 pirn out ! Gang forrat, gang forrat ! — gang ahint, gang 

 ahint ! " These contradictory exclamations I could have 

 excused, as I believe they were warranted by the sud- 

 den turns of the fish ; but the fellow had absolutely 

 the temerity to attempt to take my rod from me, 

 whereat I lashed out behind, and gave him sundry 

 kicks, as strong and hearty as could be managed 

 with my degenerate shoes. 



I did shorten my line a little, however ; but the 

 water pressed against it so heavily, that I could not ex- 

 tricate it as I wished. I had now receded to the shore, 

 and gained, as I thought, the victory. Being resolved to 

 be canny, I fixed my eyes intently upon the point where 

 the line dipped into the water, under which I conceived 

 the fish to be ; but, to my surprise, I caught a glimpse 

 of my playfellow with the tail of my eye, springing out 

 of the water, and towing my tackle after him about 

 twenty yards above the spot where I conceived him to 

 be. I was in a perfect tremor — ye gods, how I did 

 shake ! But that did not last long, as the line all of a 



