220 DAYS AND NIGHTS OF SALMON FISHING. 



had an art o' their ain in temperin' the taes o' a waster 

 that they took to the grave wi' them. I could ha'e 

 thrawn mine aff the heid of a scaur ; an' if she had 

 stracken a whinstane rock, she wad ha'e been nae mair 

 blunted than gif I had thrawn her on a haystack. 



" On oor way to the water, I was nae little fashed 

 wi' the unsonsie callant blowin up the bairdie every 

 now and than, to mak' sure that it wasna oot, an' I 

 had ance or twice to shake him by the neck, for I 

 wasna sure that the Gabberston folk — wha were aye 

 devilish yaap when there war mony fish in the water 

 — mightna be lying at the side of the throat, ready to 

 blaw up when it passed twal o'clock ; and guid truly, 

 if they had gotten a blink o' oor bairdie, they wad 

 ha'e ta'en that instead o' the hour. At any rate, 

 there was little use in warnin' a' the north side o' the 

 water that Tam Purdie was gaun oot to the fishin ; 

 an', to tell the truth, the Sabbath-day was little mair 

 than owre. 



" But some had clippit the wings o' the Sabbath 

 closer than us after a' ; I saw the twinkle of a coal 

 every now and then comin' doun Caberston peat-road, 

 an' I weel ken'd it was jist the Sandersons o' Priesthope 

 bent for the same place wi' oursel's. It was ill bein' 

 afore them on a Monanday morning wi' fair play, when 

 the water was in good trim. Faith I lost nae time when 

 I saw the twinkle o' their peat-coal (there was nae 

 strae for bairdies at Priesthope) in tying the lights on 

 the callant's back and thrawing him, and the clod- 

 waster on my shouther and stilting the water as I had 

 done in the daylight. I kent fu' weel the place where 



