A Sportsman at Large 117 



Whilst crossing from stone to stone I saw Grant stoop and 

 peer into a rivulet. 



" Sirr," he exclaimed, " a fush lees herre ; will ye hae a 

 squint at him ? ' 



I came over, and sure enough there was a salmon of about 

 ten pounds " lying doggo," in a sort of trench. 



" Man," said the ghillie, " pet yere rod up. I'll slip the 

 hook ender his jaw, and ye can hae a bit o' spoort wi' him 

 foreby ! " 



No sooner said than I was at work. All being ready, the 

 wily Grant proceeded with his fell purpose, with the result 

 that, as I stood back, there was such a mighty rush and plunge 

 that the rod was nearly pulled out of my hand. I had to sprint 

 for all I was worth, as the now thoroughly awakened and 

 terrified fish threaded its way at lightning speed between 

 the boulders, and up the rivulets with its dorsal fin out of the 

 water for most of the journey. 



Just as I was thinking it would out-pace me and get a 

 straight pull on the line, the fish obligingly saved me any 

 further trouble by running itself high and dry on the beach, 

 where it was immediately grabbed by Grant. 



This was a naughty performance, but in a way, it was 

 decidedly humorous. Worse was to come, for on an off- 

 shooting day, a week or two later, my pard fitted out an 

 expedition to net Loch Calater. I watched the dastardly 

 operations interestedly, but when, at the first haul, eighteen 

 nice salmon, averaging about nine pounds, were pulled out, 

 flopping and gasping in the fatal meshes, I felt sorely grieved. 

 If I could have induced only one of them to accept a fly, or 

 even a spoon or " Devon " I should have been more than 

 delighted. But even in those early days, I knew enough of 

 salmon and their ways to recognize that no sort of legitimate 

 lure would, under existing conditions and circumstances, 

 induce a fish to even look at, much less to rise to it. 



The " Glorious Twelfth " dawned bright and warm. I 

 was all agog for my first attack on the grouse ; but we had a 

 very stiff climb before reaching the shooting-ground. My 

 hill legs and lungs were not yet in trim, so I was fairly blown 

 and soaked with honest sweat by the time the first brace 



