262 WHA T I HAVE SEEN WHILE FISHING 



heard nothing, as they were listening with all ears to 

 MacColl's Gaelic, which was causing them to wince, 

 redden, and pale in turns. 



I was not over-proud of my show, except that 

 it was my show, and the men my men ; and my 

 back rose at their changing colours until I really 

 hungered that somehow they might come to have 

 the last laugh. 



Chop, chop ! splash, splash ! went the oars as 

 we turned our boat on the other proud vessel. 

 What care I now for chops and splashes? The 

 fellows are doing their best oh ! but it was a poor 

 best, and, as I looked round towards my rods to 

 see if I could find inspiration there, I saw the top- 

 joints giving an exaggerated representation of the 

 first-one-and-then-the-other rowing. 



What on earth, then, could the spinning of the 

 baits be like ? 



I thought for a moment or two, and then I 

 said, " Men, we are going to catch a salmon." I 

 certainly expected that the suddenness of the 

 announcement and the confidence of the tone, 

 coming so immediately after such a trying time, 

 would be a surprise, but I did not expect them to 

 stop rowing and fail to start again until I had told 

 them how I knew. In the meantime both baits 

 had sunk to the rocks, and when the boat began 

 to move again, both winches gave loud notice of 

 obstructed lines. At this, stroke-oar opened his 

 mouth and put out his tongue, but bow fairly 



