THE SPEY. 117 



drag would permit, and never slacken speed till 

 he reached Cromdale Boat Pool. Scarcely 

 would he halt in the deep water, there to take 

 breath, but off again for a second heat, leaving 

 the bonny " Haughs of Cromdale " far in the 

 rear. Though the combatants of the "Haughs" 

 should rise again, they could not frighten him 

 more than that solitary man on the shore, hold- 

 ing aloft a long enchanter's wand, and persever- 

 ingly haunting him like a ghost. Wouldn't the 

 juveniles of the flood, whom he so awed on his 

 upward journey, wonder what was up with him 

 now, and laugh in their sleeves (if they had any) 

 to see him stupidly fumbling about, and thus led 

 like a bullock to the slaughter. What telegrams 

 would run along that gossamer line of communi- 

 cation between man and fish ? what doubts, and 

 fears, and hopes, and heart-tremors would be 

 there ere the retiring sun should witness the tug 

 of war going on languidly, but still doubtfully, 

 near the low-lying haughs of Dalvey? Nor 

 would it be any shame to the monarch of the 

 flood, after battling so long and so valiantly, 

 there to quit his native dominions, and lie lowly 

 at the foot of the conqueror, acknowledging his 

 supremacy, and there, on the daisy-fringed 



