THE SALMON OF CLOOTIE'S HOLE. 347 



that the river was rising a little, and chances of sport 

 diminishing in equal ratio ; and so hearing from 

 Johnnie that we were fixed there, he thought he 

 might as well stop too. He showed no signs of mov- 

 ing, he said he was in no hurry, had nothing to do, 

 would not like to fish the pools in front of us (we 

 knew that and the reason too) ; and finally, having 

 driven us half daft, he added insult to insult by 

 offering us his own pet fly " the ane I heuked baith 

 fush wi'." 



It was wet, sure enough ; but if he had sworn to 

 the fact on his knees, we would never have believed 

 that it had risen a fish for him that day. It was a 

 small, dirty, muddy-feathered looking thing ; but it 

 was not because of its insignificance or its dull colour- 

 ing that we rejected it with scorn. Angus knew better 

 than to offer us a hopeless fly, and if the river had 

 been a little smaller it might have done well enough ; 

 but the gut was ntckeiJ, the little eye was worn nearly 

 through, and if a salmon had taken it he would have 

 taken it in more senses than one : the flap of his tail 

 as he departed would have been all that we should 

 have ever seen of him. 



We were glad to find this out ; we took some pains 

 to point it out to him, and felt a little comforted 

 while he protested his innocence, and vowed that he 

 had not noticed the weakness. "NVe chuckled a little 

 at the thought of having been too much for him this 

 time ; but when, after having settled him, we turned 



