THE TWENTY-SIX-POUNDER 265 



no language suitable to the occasion, and for a few 

 moments a gloomy silence reigned supreme. 



Davy was the first to recover the shock. ' The big 

 yin's there yet, sir. Try him again.' 



Cousin Henry with an effort pulled himself together. 

 The necessity for retrieving the position and saving 

 the character of the river became simply overwhelm- 

 ing. A fresh triangle lead, paper, and all complete 

 was rapidly put together, and the operation was 

 repeated this time in grim earnest. No slack line 

 now hung from the reel ; and, after careful manoeuvring, 

 the triangle directed as before by Davy from the 

 bridge gently drifted down to the big stone, lightly 

 rested for a moment against salmon No. 2, and was 

 promptly struck into its broad side. The rod bent, 

 and the tightened line cut the water to the sweet music 

 of the reel. 



After fifteen minutes' exciting play a noble twenty- 

 six-pounder was gaffed, and the reputation of the 

 water was saved. 



That afternoon a procession of two, with an air of 

 conscious pride, stalked slowly down the village street, 

 past McTavish, the constable, and on to the big house, 

 Davy gaily carrying the ' fush.' 



The sequel remains to be told. Cousin Henry 

 departed next day with his reputation as a fisherman 

 assured. 



On the following Sunday afternoon an Elder of the 

 Kirk was taking a stroll 'doon the watter.' In a 

 pool some quarter of a mile below the bridge he 

 thought he saw a line waving in the stream that ran 

 under an overhanging rock. He hooked it out with 

 his stick ; it was a salmon-line. 



He hauled, and the line was nearly pulled out of his 



