FISH PHOTOGRAPHIC EXCURSIONS 165 
that veesitors’ luggage will be going to Stornoway ; 
maybe it will return next week, but verra likely it will 
be going on to Glasgae, where ye’ll be finding it at 
MacBrayne’s office on your way back!” 
I left five shillings to cover any expenses which 
might be incurred in recovering my luggage, and in 
four days it turned up. 
In the meantime I watched an otter kill three 
salmon, caught two myself (with borrowed tackle) on 
the hotel waters, got wet through every day, and had 
to wear the hardy landlord’s underclothing, which to 
my pampered skin appeared to be made of horsehair 
and heather, and finally had an opportunity of realis- 
ing what a whaling station is like on a hot August 
afternoon. 
Previous to my arrival the weather had been fine, 
and the water was low, so I started out to catch sea- 
trout with a ten-foot rod, a fine line, nine feet of drawn 
gut, and a small, bright-coloured fly. But on the 
second day, as I was fishing, the sky clouded over and 
a gale of wind got up which churned the loch into a 
miniature sea. Suddenly I was into a big fish. This 
turned out to be a clean run, seven-pound salmon. 
Sandy, my gillie, was seventy years of age, consump- 
tive, and had a weak heart, and yet the old man worked 
the boat so well that we killed the fish—a feat that 
with my light tackle in such a gale of wind would 
have been impossible except for his skill. 
We landed, and ten minutes were allowed in which 
