isher, at
the same moment, bounded on to a strip of sand there--minus only hat and
wind--and proceeded to reel in the line for the next burst.

But another burst did not occur, for the fish was by that time pretty
well exhausted, and took to what is styled sulking; that is, lying at
the bottom of a hole with its nose, probably, under a stone. While in
this position a fish may recover strength to renew the battle. It is
therefore advisable, if possible, to drive him or haul him out of his
refuge by all or any means. A small fish may be hauled out if the
tackle be strong, but this method is not possible with a heavy one such
as that which Jackman had hooked.

"What's to be done now, Junkie?" he said, after one or two vain efforts
to move the fish.

"Bomb stones at him," said the urchin, without a moment's hesitation.

"Bomb away then, my boy!"

Junkie at once sent several large stones whizzing into the pool. The
result was that the salmon made another dash for life, but gave in
almost immediately, and came to the surface on its side. The battle is
usually about ended when this takes place, though not invariably so, for
lively fish sometimes recover sufficiently to make a final effort. In
this case, however, it was the close of the fight. Slowly and carefully
the fisher drew the fish towards the shelving bank, where Junkie stood
ready with the gaff. Another moment, and the boy bounded into the
water, stuck the hook into the salmon's shoulder, and laid it like a bar
of glittering silver on the bank.

"A twenty-pounder," said Junkie, with critical gravity.

"Twinty an' three-quarters," said Quin, as he weighed it.

"And a good job, too," returned the practical urchin; "for I heard
mother say we'd have no fish for dinner to-morrow if somebody didn't
catch something."

CHAPTER SIX.

DANGEROUS STUDIES, PECULIAR ART, AND SPLENDID FISHING.

There was a glass conservatory in one corner of the garden at Kinlossie
House, to which the laird was wont to retire regularly for the enjoyment
of a pipe every morning after breakfast. In this retreat, which was
rich in hot-house plants, he was frequently joined by one or more of the
members of his family, and sometimes by the friends who chanced to be
staying with him. Thither John Barret got into the way of going--partly
for the sake of a chat with the old man, of whom he soon became very
fond, and partly for the sake of the plants, in which he was
scientifically