He was a very tiny lad indeed, with a head of tow apparently, and no cap; but they found him invaluable. For wee Johnnie knew all the best “pots” where the biggest trout lay, and he knew also precisely the kind of flies they liked.
“Oh,” he cried, when he saw Sandie’s and Willie’s book, “the troots wadna look at they.”
Then from what he called his “oxter pouch” he produced his own book. Something very different here. But the results justified the boy’s wisdom, and an excellent day’s sport was the result.
“Johnnie, you’re a little brick,” cried Willie, after he had put up his rod.
He placed a five-shilling piece in the boy’s hand as he spoke.
Johnnie looked at it, and his eyes appeared to turn quite as large and round as the coin. He had never fingered so much money in his life before.
“Is a’ this for me?” he said.
“All for you, Johnnie.”
“A’ for my nain sel’?”
“All for your own self.”