AUTUMN ANGLING ON THE LYON. 347 



number of salmon-streams, after the water has been searched 

 by an able angler, his successor's prospects are considerably 

 blighted. On my next fishing-day, however, I had the satis- 

 faction of picking up the worm from before the very beak of a 

 " two o'clock in the morning " bird. 



A close and sultry air made the whole genus salmo quite as 

 stubborn as on my first introduction to the Lyon ; and although 

 I swept the water leisurely up to the stream where I killed 

 the salmon a few days before, the only offers were the splash 

 of a playful grilse, which declined to continue the game, and 

 the fix of a really good river-trout which slipped off. 



On reaching the bank of my fortunate pool, the sun oppor- 

 tunely glanced on the brass reel belonging to an uncouth rod, 

 evidently hid in a hurry among the rank grass. A pair of 

 hobnail boots peeping out from under " the busses," as Mac 

 calls the whins, quickly revealed the owner of the rod, and we 

 unkennelled the comical old " bellman," who shammed a nap 

 to perfection. He had been out since the dawn, he said, but 

 " hadna steered a fin or seen a fish a' day." To punish old 

 Slyboots, a fine salmon floundered up at this moment before 

 us, as if to give him the lie direct. The confusion on " Bell- 

 tow's " face and the smirk on Mac's were rare fun. He saw 

 at once that the old man had not only seen this fish, but (as 

 we afterwards were told by the Meggernie keeper was fact) 

 had most likely thrown over it, and was " waiting on " for 

 another trial when he heard our approach. His tactics, then, 

 were to hide himself ; and if found out, to feign sleep, but at 

 all events to conceal from us that there was a feeding salmon 

 in the pool. 



Taking post about twenty yards above the fish, I threw 

 cautiously over him with my dark fly, and at the first free 

 sweep he sprang beautifully and fastened. He first struck 

 across the stream, and then made some fine bursts up and 

 down the pool before I could tire him. In the thick of it I 

 heard the old man's " Gie't line ! gie't line ! " to which, of 



