118 AMID THE HIGH HILLS 
weeds, when, expecting every minute that we 
might part company, I was determined, whatever 
happened, that he should come where I wished 
him to come. 
We saw that the fish had taken the bob fly, 
and this added to my apprehensions, as I was 
afraid, particularly as I knew the loch was not 
deep, that the tail fly would catch in something 
at the bottom of the loch, and there would then 
be a catastrophe. Time wore on, and my back 
and arms began to ache most prodigiously. 
Still the fish seemed as strong as ever. My 
brother said he must have some lunch, and when- 
ever Sandy and I got the chance we managed to 
eat some sandwiches. I began to wonder how 
much longer the fly would hold, and whether 
this fish would prove to be one more of the many 
good fish lost through the fly working out at the 
end of a long fight. 
I could do nothing except hold on for all I 
was worth, keeping as tight a line as I could, and, 
of course, lowering the point of the rod whenever 
the fish jumped, as he frequently did. As time 
went on, however, the rushes made by the fish 
were not so long, and he seemed, at last, to have 
abandoned his leaping tactics, which had given 
