242 TROUT FISHING 



across the thwarts. " If ye let her slack 

 a second she'll slip off, and if ye're too 

 tight she'll break ye ! " 



Thus admonished, I found myself 

 standing with dignity at the prow, gazing 

 out on the mysterious deep, somewhere 

 in which the whustler was still unmistak- 

 ably on. He showed as yet no violent 

 excitement : only, away he went, steadily, 

 unrelentingly, the boat in pursuit as 

 quickly as Ronald could drive it. With- 

 in ten minutes we were in the middle of 

 the loch, which is much less broad than 

 long. Suddenly the strain yielded. To 

 my horror, I found that I could reel in 

 without resistance. Sick at heart, I turned 

 and looked at Ronald. He was rowing 

 with might and main. 



" Stop, Ronald." 



He looked at me, over his shoulder, 

 in apprehensive interrogation : clearly he 

 meant, "Is she off?" 



" I think so," said I ; and was beginning 

 to assure him that I had really made no 

 mistake, when the sound of a heavy splash 



