rovide himself with a massive slice of bread and cheese to sustain
him while carrying on his investigations.

Before he had got far from the house, however, he encountered Donald of
the ragged head, who had hung about the place in hopes of another
deer-drive, and whom he styled "Tonal'," in semi-sarcastic imitation of
old Ian. Him he at once took into his confidence.

"I'll co wuth ye," said Donald.

"Come along, then. But mind, if you make a noise, or show yourself; if
you so much as cough or sneeze, I'll punch your head an' tumble you into
the river."

"Fery coot," said Donald. And upon this clear understanding they
advanced.

The other members of the company at the house, meanwhile, had scattered
in various directions to fish, shoot, paint or botanise, according to
fancy.

We may explain here that there were several trouting streams in the
vicinity of the house, besides the "river" at the head of the loch.
Thus it was that MacRummle had a stream all to himself.

At first the fisher tried fly, to which he was partial, but success did
not attend his efforts. The water was not in the best condition for
fly, being rather swollen by recent rains. Perseverance, however, was
one of MacRummle's strong qualities. He was not to be easily beaten.

There was a certain big boulder about the size of a dog-cart near the
mouth of the stream, which narrowed its bed considerably, and thus
produced a formation of rock below water favourable to the shelter of
fish. It also sent an oily ripple over the surface of the water, which
was favourable to the operations of the fisher. The old gentleman
seldom failed to raise or hook a good sea-trout there, and always made
his first cast with eager expectation. But the fish were either
obdurate or blind that morning. They could not or they would not see.
With a slight, but by no means desponding, sigh, the old man changed his
cast and tried again. He knew every stone and ledge of the pool, and
cast again and again with consummate skill and unusual care. Still,
without result.

"That's odd," he muttered, for, being naturally a sociable man, he found
talking to himself an immense relief. "Try once more, just at the tail
o' yon swirl, Dick, my boy."

His Christian name was Richard. No one would have presumed to call him
Dick but himself.

No result following this appeal to the tail of the swirl, he sat down on
the bank and once more changed his hook. The nature of change