THE "WHUSTLER " 245 



Ronald himself seemed to think so. 



"This," he said, "looks like a long 

 job. She'll no' tire for a while. Ye 

 needna' gi'e her the butt — the bit wand 

 would just bend and she wudna' feel it. 

 Am no' muckle in favour o' they new- 

 fangled split - cane toys. Gi'e me an 

 auld - fashioned greenheart — something 

 ye can hud on by. That fish micht 

 vera near as weel be free a'thegither. 

 It's no' us that's caught her — it's her 

 that's nabbit us." 



This seemed true. As far as I could 

 make out, we were no nearer capturing 

 the whustler than we had been before 

 he took the fly. He was not now tearing 

 through the water quite so fiercely ; but 

 I had no confidence that he was without 

 reserve of strength. Certainly he was 

 full of resource. He had turned to the 

 right, as if to pay a call at Muirlagan Bay, 

 and was apparently wagging his head 

 from side to side. I felt that the gut 

 might give way to one of his uncomfort- 

 able tugs. 



