CHAPTER IX. 



A HIGHLAND SALMON RIVER. CRUDE POLITICS, ETC. 



" THIS day should do," Ward remarked, as we sat 

 down to breakfast "nice grey sky; and see, the 

 south-west wind just moves the leaves outside. How 

 do you feel, Fred ? " 



" Bloodthirsty exceedingly, cousin mine." 



" And do you know you are to have Abbott's 

 pet rod, as you have deported yourself decently of 

 late?" 



" Oh, that is so kind ! Mr. Abbott ; I shall see I do 

 not injure it." 



" No fear, Fred ; unless you fall amongst stones, or 

 lay it down carelessly. When you put it on the 

 ground have it level, for if a rod gets a set twist it is 

 ruined." 



" What if I break the top with a fish, as I did with 

 mine?" 



