A PONDEROUS SALMON 113 



superstition matters not ; but I left the cast 

 because it was unlucky, which is much the same 

 thing. 



I was now under the influence of some better 

 spirit of the flood ; for I absolutely landed two gilse 

 of six pounds each in a cast called " The Noirs." 

 Wattie, seeing my rod bent, came up : he said but 

 little ; but that little was the most unqualified 

 abuse of my mismanagement. The fact is, I treated 

 the gilse just as I would have treated a trout ; a 

 very base mistake. I bagged them, however, not- 

 withstanding thanks to the excellence of the 

 channel. 



The next cast I came to was called " The Brig- 

 end " ; and here I hooked a fine salmon : he was 

 brave and strenuous, and so ponderous, that it 

 seemed as if my hook had caught hold of a floating 

 Norwegian pine, " fit for the mast of some high 

 ammiral." After various eccentric courses, Master 

 Fish made a sudden and desperate rush down the 

 river ; out went my line with a whirring rattle, and 

 cut one of my fingers sharply. I followed as best I 

 might, prancing in the water like a war-horse, with the 

 spray about my ears. Wattie hallooed out, and said 

 I know not what ; but the tone of his voice was far 

 from being complimentary. Nearly all my line of a 

 hundred yards was now run out ; when the fish 

 made a sudden turn, crossed to the opposite bank, 

 and coasted up it amongst the rocks. Here again 

 Wattie was perfectly wild. 



" Gang back, I tell ye haud up yer gaud shorten 

 yer line keep aboon him, ye gomrell ! Ou, ye are 



