lly. "It is lovely! I didn't think
there could be anything so grand."

"Ferry coot. She knows what is ferry coot," said Tavish, nodding his
head approvingly, as he set down a basket.

"Glad you're satisfied!" cried Kenneth; "but we've come to fish."

"To fish?"

"Yes, of course."

"Are there salmon here, then?"

"Yes; there's one in every pool, I'll bet; and I daresay there's one
where the little fall comes down."

"What! There?" cried Max, as he looked up and up, till about two
thousand feet above them a thread of glancing silver seemed to join
other threads of glancing silver, like veins of burnished metal, to come
gliding down, now lost to sight among the verdure of the mountain, now
coming into view again, till they joined in one rapid rivulet, which had
cut for itself a channel deep in the mountain side, and finally dashed
out from beneath the shade of the overhanging birches, to plunge with a
dull roar into the river nearly opposite where they stood.

"Now then," said Kenneth, "I'm supposing that you have never tried to
catch a salmon."

"Puir laddie!" muttered the great forester; "a'most a man, and never
caught a fush! Hey! where are ye gaun wi' that basket, Scood?"

"Never you mind, Tavvy. I sent him," said Kenneth sharply, as Scoodrach
plunged in among the rocks and bushes behind them, and disappeared.

"I think you had better fish," said Max shrinkingly, "I have never
tried."

"Then you are going to try now. Take this rod. Hold it in both hands,
so. There, you see there is a grand salmon fly on."

"Yes, I see."

"Well, now, do just as I do. There's not much line out. Give it a wave
like this, just as if you were making a figure eight in the air, and
then try to let your fly fall gently just there."

Max had taken the rod, and stood watching Kenneth, who had taken the
other, and, giving it a wave, he made the fly fall lightly on the short
grass beside the river.

"Is this a salmon leap, then?" asked Max innocently.

"No; but there's one higher up. Why?"

"Because I thought the salmon must leap out of the river on to the grass
to take the fly."

"Hoo--hoo--hoo! Hoogle--hoogle--hoogle! I beg your pairdon!"

Tavish had burst out into a kind of roar, as near to the above as
English letters will sound. Perhaps he was laughing in Gaelic, with a
cross of Scandinavian; but, whatever it was, he seemed heartily ashamed
of his rudeness, and looked as solemn as a judge.

"Don't la