'Do you know where I should be then?' she retorted. 'I should be warming my toes in front of Mrs. Murray's peat-fire.'
'Not one bit,' said he, just as positively. 'If ye heard the salmon were taking, ye'd be down here fast enough, I'm thinking.'
And presently it seemed as if this early start of theirs was to be rewarded, for scarcely were both lines out—and Miss Carry was just settling herself down for a little quiet talk, and was pulling the collar of her ulster higher over her ears (for the wind was somewhat cold)—when a sudden tugging and straining at one of the rods, followed by a sharp scream of the reel, upset all these little plans. She made a dash at the rod and raised it quickly.
'That's a good fish—that's a good fish!' Ronald cried, with his mouth set hard. 'Now let's see if we canna hold on to this one. Let him go, lassie!—I beg your pardon—let him go—let him go—that's right—a clean fish, and a beauty!'
Beauty or no, the salmon had no hesitation about showing himself, at least; for now he began to lash the surface of the water, some fifty yards away, not springing into the air, but merely beating the waves with head and body and tail to get rid of this unholy thing that he had pursued and gripped. Then down he went with a mighty plunge—the reel whirring out its shrill cry, and Miss Carry's gloves suffering in consequence—and there he sulked; so that they backed the boat again, and again she got in some of the line. What was the sound that came across the lake to them, in the face of the northerly wind?
'They're waving a handkerchief to ye, Miss Hodson,' said he, 'from the other boat.'
'Oh, bother,' said she (for the strain of a heavy salmon and forty yards of line was something on her arms), 'here, take the handkerchief from this breast-pocket, and wave it back to them—stand up beside me—they won't see the difference——'
He did as he was bid; apparently she paid little attention; she seemed wholly bent on getting the fish. And clearly the salmon had somewhat exhausted himself with his first escapades; he now lay deep down, not stirring an inch; so that she got in her line until there was not more than twenty yards out: then they waited.
And meanwhile this strange thing that was overtaking them? The bright, windy, changeable day—with its gleaming snow-slopes and sunlit straths and woods darkened by passing shadows—seemed to be slowly receding from them, and around them came a kind of hushed and stealthy gloom. And then the wind stirred again; the gusts came sharper and colder; here and there a wet particle stung the cheek or the back of the hand. Of course, she was in a death-struggle with a salmon; she could not heed. And presently the gathering blackness all around seemed to break into a soft bewilderment of snow; large, soft, woolly flakes came driving along before the wind; all the world was shut out from them; they could see nothing but a short space of livid dark water, and feel nothing but this choking silent thing in the air. And then again, with a magical rapidity, the heavens and the earth seemed to open above and around them; the clouds swept on; there was a great deep of dazzling blue suddenly revealed in the sky overhead; and all the dancing waters of the lake, from the boat to the farthest shores, were one flashing and lapping mass of keen, pure cobalt, absolutely bewildering to the eyes. The joy of that radiant colour, after the mystery and the darkness! And then the sunlight broke out; and Clebrig had a touch of gold along his mighty shoulders; and Ben Loyal's snow-slopes were white against the brilliant blue; and it seemed as if the fairest of soft summer skies were shining over Bonnie Strath-Naver.
To her it meant that she could see a little more clearly. She shook the snowflakes from her hair.