Following, then, at a respectful distance, and relying for success very much on the fisher’s partial blindness and deafness, Junkie went out to have a day of it. He even went so far, in the matter of forethought, as to provide himself with a massive slice of bread and cheese to sustain him while carrying on his investigations.
Before he had got far from the house, however, he encountered Donald of the ragged head, who had hung about the place in hopes of another deer-drive, and whom he styled “Tonal’,” in semi-sarcastic imitation of old Ian. Him he at once took into his confidence.
“I’ll co wuth ye,” said Donald.
“Come along, then. But mind, if you make a noise, or show yourself; if you so much as cough or sneeze, I’ll punch your head an’ tumble you into the river.”
“Fery coot,” said Donald. And upon this clear understanding they advanced.
The other members of the company at the house, meanwhile, had scattered in various directions to fish, shoot, paint or botanise, according to fancy.
We may explain here that there were several trouting streams in the vicinity of the house, besides the “river” at the head of the loch. Thus it was that MacRummle had a stream all to himself.
At first the fisher tried fly, to which he was partial, but success did not attend his efforts. The water was not in the best condition for fly, being rather swollen by recent rains. Perseverance, however, was one of MacRummle’s strong qualities. He was not to be easily beaten.
There was a certain big boulder about the size of a dog-cart near the mouth of the stream, which narrowed its bed considerably, and thus produced a formation of rock below water favourable to the shelter of fish. It also sent an oily ripple over the surface of the water, which was favourable to the operations of the fisher. The old gentleman seldom failed to raise or hook a good sea-trout there, and always made his first cast with eager expectation. But the fish were either obdurate or blind that morning. They could not or they would not see. With a slight, but by no means desponding, sigh, the old man changed his cast and tried again. He knew every stone and ledge of the pool, and cast again and again with consummate skill and unusual care. Still, without result.
“That’s odd,” he muttered, for, being naturally a sociable man, he found talking to himself an immense relief. “Try once more, just at the tail o’ yon swirl, Dick, my boy.”