'I suppose ye dinna happen to have a reel about ye?'
'That I have,' was the instant answer, 'and a brand new hundred-yard line on it too. Would ye like to try a cast? I'm thinking ye ken something about it.'
It was an odd kind of place to try the casting-power of a salmon-rod, this dismal no-man's-land of empty trucks and rusted railway-points and black ashes; but no sooner had Ronald begun to send out a good line—taking care to recover it so that it should not fray itself along the gritty ground—than the old man perceived he had to deal with no amateur.
'Man, ye're a dab, and no mistake! As clean a line as ever I saw cast! It's no the first time you've handled a salmon-rod, I'll be bound!'
'It's the best rod I've ever had in my hand,' Ronald said, as he began to reel in the line again. 'I'm much obliged to ye for letting me try a cast—it's many a day now since I threw a line.'
They took the rod down and put it in its case.
'I'm much obliged to ye,' Ronald repeated (for the mere handling of this rod had fired his veins with a strange kind of excitement). 'Will ye come and take a dram?'
'No, thank ye, I'm a teetotaller,' said the other; and then he glanced at Ronald curiously. 'But ye seem to ken plenty about dogs and about fishing and so on—what are ye doing in Glasgow and the morn the Twelfth? Ye are not a town lad?'
'No, I'm not; but I have to live in the town at present,' was the answer. 'Well, good-day to ye; and many thanks for the trial o' the rod.'
'Good-day, my lad; I wish I had your years and the strength o' your shouthers.'