THE WEATHER 171 



assaults of which the hapless anglers were without 

 defence. It came in wild and vicious gusts, tearing 

 the foaming crests from the waves and whirling them 

 in spindrift down the loch. It blustered and stormed 

 and almost drove us from the water in its fury. So 

 full of purpose seemed its violence, that it was hard to 

 believe ourselves the victims of soulless force and not 

 the sport of a vindictive demon whose dearest mission 

 in life was to harass and annoy the angler. It pursued 

 us unrelentingly, and seemed to howl and shriek in 

 fiendish enjoyment of our discomfiture. There was no 

 escape from it ; go where we would, it sought and 

 never failed to find us. Outside, it blew in a uniform 

 direction down the loch, but in the nooks and corners 

 into which we vainly fled for shelter, it was variable 

 and uncertain, and swirled about from point to point in 

 a manner quite confounding. It screamed down every 

 hollow in the hills and raged round every headland, 

 and was here, and there, and everywhere at once. It 

 caught at the angler's rod and strove to wrest it from 

 his grasp ; it assailed himself and did its wicked best to 

 hurl him from the boat. It deprived angling of all its 

 pleasure and converted it into a continuous struggle, 

 in which the fisherman rarely secured an advantage. 

 Angling was impossible ; if the angler, seeking to 



