Part 13 (2/2)
”A freen' o' my cousin's, Adam Mercer, o' Drumsylie,” remarked old Spence. ”Sit doon, my man!”
”I'm glad tae see ye,” said the happy sonsy wife, stretching out her hand to Jock, who took it reluctantly, and gazed in the woman's face with an awkward expression.
”It's been saft weather, and bad for travellin', and ye hae come a far gait,” she continued; and forthwith began to arrange her house. Almost at her heels the children arrived. There were two flaxen-haired girls, one ten and the other about twelve, with bare feet, and their locks tied up like sheaves of ripe golden grain. Then came in a stout lad of about seven, from school and play. All looked as fresh and full of life as young roe from the forest.
”Gang awa', bairns, and snod yersels,” said Mrs. Hugh.
”This man,” said old Spence, who was jealous of his authority over the household, pointing to Jock, ”wull tak' his supper wi' us. He's tae sleep in the stable-laft.”
”He's welcome, he's welcome,” said Mrs. Hugh. ”The bed's nae braw, but it's clean, and it's our best for strangers.”
The last to enter, as the sun was setting, was John, the eldest, a lad of about fourteen, the very picture of a pure-eyed, ruddy-complexioned, healthy, and happy lad. He had left school to a.s.sist his father in attending to his duties.
”What luck, Johnnie?” asked his father, as the boy entered with his fis.h.i.+ng basket over his shoulder.
”Middlin' only,” replied John; ”the water was raither laigh, and the tak' wasna guid. There were plenty o' rises, but the troots were unco shy. But I hae gotten, for a' that, a guid wheen;” and he unslung his basket and poured out from it a number of fine trout.
Jock's attention was now excited. Here was evidence of an art which he flattered himself he understood, and could speak about with some authority.
”Pretty fair,” was his remark, as he rose and examined them; ”whaur got ye them?”
”In the Blackcraig water,” replied the boy.
”Let me luik at yer flee, laddie?” asked Jock. The boy produced it.
”Heckle, bad!--ye should hae tried a teal's feather on a day like this.”
Johnnie looked with respect at the stranger. ”Are ye a fisher?” he asked.
”I hae tried my han',” said Jock. And so the conversation began, until soon the two were seated together at the window. Then followed such a talk on the mysteries of the craft as none but students of the angle could understand:--the arrangement and effect of various ”dressings”, of wings, bodies, heckles, &c., being discussed with intense interest, until all acknowledged Jock as a master.
”Ye seem tae understan' the business weel,” remarked Hugh.
”I wad need,” replied Jock. ”When a man's life, no' to speak o' his pleasure, depen's on't, he needs tae fish wi' a watchfu' e'e and canny han'. But at a' times, toom or hungry, it's a great divertees.e.m.e.nt!”
Both Johnnie and his father cordially a.s.sented to the truth of the sentiment.
”Eh, man!” said Jock, thus encouraged to speak on a favourite topic, ”what a conceit it is when ye reach a fine run on a warm spring mornin', the wuds hotchin' wi' birds, an' dauds o' licht noos and thans glintin'
on the water; an' the water itsel' in trim order, a wee doon, after a nicht's spate, and wi' a drap o' porter in't, an' rowin' and bubblin'
ower the big stanes, curlin' into the linn and oot o't; and you up tae the henches in a dark neuk whaur the fish canna see ye; an' than to get a lang cast in the breeze that soughs in the bushes, an' see yer flee licht in the vera place ye want, quiet as a midge lichts on yer nose, or a b.u.mbee on a flower o' clover, an'----”
Johnnie was bursting with almost as much excitement as Jock, but did not interrupt him except with a laugh expressive of his delight.
”An' than,” continued Jock, ”whan a muckle chiel' o' a salmon, wi'oot time tae consider whether yer flee is for his wame or only for his mooth--whether it's made by natur' or by Jock Hall--plays flap! and by mistak' gangs to digest what he has gotten for his breakfast, but suspec's he canna swallow the line alang wi' his mornin' meal till he taks some exercise!--an' then tae see the line ticht, and the rod bendin' like a heuk, and tae fin' something gaun frae the fish up the line and up the rod till it reaches yer verra heart, that gangs _pit pat_ at yer throat like a tickin' watch; until the bonnie cratur', efter rinnin' up and doon like mad, noo skulkin' aside a stane tae cure his teethache, then bilkin' awa' wi' a scunner at the line and trying every dodge, syne gies in, comes tae yer han' clean beat in fair play, and lies on the bank sayin' 'Wae's me' wi' his tail, an' makin' his will wi'
his gills and mooth time aboot!--eh, man, it's splendid!” Jock wearied himself with the description.
”Whaur hae ye fished?” asked Hugh, after a pause during which he had evidently enjoyed Jock's description.
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