256 TROUT FISHING 



Spring, which, it will be remembered, 

 deals in a livelier iris, 



" Steady, sir, steady ! Sit doon I " ex- 

 claimed Ronald, interrupting my apolo- 

 getic reflections. " See yon ! " He nodded 

 westward. I turned for a moment to look. 



To within a hundred yards of us, all 

 the loch was churned and seething white, 

 and the dark air was gray with sleet. 



Having had some little experience of 

 the storms which suddenly descend upon 

 Highland lochs, I did not like the look 

 of things. Indeed, inwardly I began to 

 sympathise with Ronald's view that we 

 should have anticipated the evU hour by 

 cutting ourselves free from the whustler 

 long before. However, the time was not 

 suited to after-thoughts ; and I pretended 

 not to understand. 



" Right O, Ronald ! The gut, I think, 

 will hold — sound Lochleven." 



Meanwhile the whustler had led us a 

 considerable distance from the place in 

 which he had rested and been refreshed. 

 As it was now impossible to see the 



