THE SALMON 123 



deil a fin he moved (yon wor a bad cast do it 

 again) so I said, ' Duncan, lad, gi'e me the wand 

 ye 're better at psalmody than saumon-fishing ;' so 

 I joost cast ower yonder big stane where the 

 whirlie is. (That was a grand cast, I 'm 'maist 

 sure ye rose him then bide a wee and try 

 that ane again.) Weel, he rose at the bob an' I 

 heukit him ; it wor a grand rise, an' I felt I had 

 him fast a big fash he was, an' clean run, an' 

 varra unaccommodatin' he showed himself, for deil 

 tak' him ! he wad gang na gait but his ain, an' 

 that aye the wrang ain. (There he came agen ! ye 

 didna touch him ; let me change the flee for ane a 

 wee bittie smaller, an' gi'e him time to turn him- 

 self round.) Aweel I had him on mebbe ten 

 minutes, an' he was beginning to come in, when 

 Duncan, who I 'm thinking was more handy wi' 

 the gaff than wi' the rod, stept into the water 

 an' tried to cleik him as he hung on the stream. 

 Weel, he joost missed him, an' the fash made a 

 dash doon-stream. I thocht he was clean lost 

 for gude an' a', but he wasna', he was on fast 

 eneuch; but siccan an' uncanny brute I never had 

 to deal with he was bad before he was ten times 

 worse now, an' it was twa good hours before 

 Duncan stuck the cleik intil him, an' then I found 

 that he had broken the bob out of his mouth, an! 



