248 WHAT I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



encouraging companion, I never met, and I re- 

 gretted his death more than I shall say here. I do 

 not quite remember how many years he fished with 

 me, but to him is due much of the knowledge which 

 I have gathered of Glenlyon. He was the son and 

 grandson of great fishermen, who fished the glen 

 and paid their tribute to the lairds in salmon. 

 They had flies for every pool, and the hours for 

 fishing them. With Mac, the last of his line, 

 there was buried much that should have been 

 written. 



Sometimes this man was almost my sole com- 

 panion for a month, without break, and I never 

 once knew him out of temper or spirits. No 

 mishap, nor even the loss of a fish when almost 

 ready for gaffing, could ruffle him. Once only 

 during my long stays here did he excuse himself 

 from starting in the morning ; and then it was not 

 to commence mending the boots that filled his shop, 

 but to kill a pig ; and, in the meantime, he lent me 

 the services of his nephew, who was to run for him 

 if a fish came on. 



The fish came and the boy ran, and, as he ran, 

 called loudly. Mac heard the call, failed in his shot 

 at the forehead of the pig they shoot them here 

 and struck it in the lobe of the ear. 



Mac ran, as few heavy men could or would run, 

 and was with me just as the fish turned on his side 

 at the edge of the rock. All was well and we were 

 two happy men. 



