White Heather: A Novel (Volume 1 of 3). William Black

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СКАЧАТЬ the favour. Indeed!'

      He fixed his eyes on her,

      'He is a good-looking young fellow, that Ronald.'

      She did not answer that; she was putting the marmalade, and the honey, and the cream on the table.

      'He is not married?'

      'No, sir.'

      'Well, now, when he thinks about getting married, I suppose he'll pretty well have his choice about here?'

      'Indeed there iss others besides him,' said Nelly rather proudly, but her face was red as she opened the door.

      Well, whether it was owing to the intervention of Nelly or not, as soon as Mr. Hodson was ready to start he found Ronald waiting for him without; and not only that, but he had already assumed command of the expedition, having sent the one gillie who had arrived down to bale the boat. And then he would overhaul Mr. Hodson's fishing-gear – examining the rods, testing the lines and traces, and rejecting all the spoon baits, angels, sand-eels, and what not, that had been supplied by the London tackle-maker, for two or three of the familiar phantom minnows. Mr. Hodson could scarcely believe that this was the same man who last night had been discussing the disestablishment of state churches and the policy of protecting native industries. He had not a word for anything but the business before him; and the bold fashion in which he handled those minnows, all bristling with hooks, or drew the catgut traces through his fingers (Mr. Hodson shivered, and seemed to feel his own fingers being cut to the bone), showed that he was as familiar with the loch as with the hillside or the kennel.

      'I'm not much on salmon-fishing myself,' the American remarked modestly.

      'It's rather early in the season, sir, I'm afraid,' was the answer. 'But we might get a fish after all; and if we do it'll be the first caught in Scotland this year, I warrant.'

      They set out and walked down to the shore of the loch, and there Mr. Hodson seated himself on the gunwale of the flat-bottomed coble, and watched the two men putting the rods together and fixing the traces. The day had now declared itself; wild and stormy in appearance, but fair on the whole; great floods of sunshine falling suddenly on the yellow slopes and the russet birch woods; and shadows coming as rapidly across the far heights of Clebrig, steeping the mountains in gloom. As for the gillie who had been proof against the seductions of keeping the New Year, and who was now down on one knee, biting catgut with his teeth, he was a man as tall and as sallow as Mr. Hodson himself, but with an added expression of intense melancholy and hopelessness. Or was that but temporary?

      'Duncan doesna like that boat,' Ronald said, glancing at Mr. Hodson.

      The melancholy man did not speak, but shook his head gloomily.

      'Why?'

      As the gillie did not answer, Ronald said —

      'He thinks there is no luck with that boat.'

      'That boat?' the gillie said, with an angry look towards the hapless coble. 'She has the worst luck of any boat in Sutherland —tam her,' he added, under his breath.

      'In my country,' the American said, in his slow way, 'we don't mind luck much; we find perseverance about as good a horse to win with in the end.'

      He was soon to have his perseverance tried. Everything being ready they pushed off from the shore, Ronald taking stroke oar, the gillie at the bow; Mr. Hodson left to pay out the lines of the two rods, and fix these in the stern, when about five-and-thirty yards had gone forth. At first, it is true, he waited and watched with a trifle of anxiety. He wanted to catch a salmon; it would be something to write about to his daughter; it would be a new experience for himself. But when time passed and the boat was slowly rowed along the loch at a measured distance from the shore, without any touch of anything coming to make the point of either rod tremble, he rather gave up his hope in that direction, and took to talking with Ronald. After all, it was not salmon-fishing alone that had brought him into these wilds.

      'I suppose it is really too early in the season,' he observed, without much chagrin.

      'Rayther,' said Ronald.

      'Rawther,' said the melancholy gillie.

      But at that instant something happened that startled every one of them out of their apathy. The top of one of the rods was violently pulled at, and then there was a long shrill yell of the reel.

      'There he is, sir! there he is, sir!' Ronald called.

      Mr. Hodson made a grab blindly – for he had been looking at the scenery around – at one of the rods. It was the wrong one. But before he knew where he was, Ronald had got hold of the other and raised the top so as to keep a strain on the fish. The exchange of the rods was effected in a moment. Then when Ronald had wound in the other line and put the rod at the bow, he took to his oar again, leaving Mr. Hodson to fight his unknown enemy as best he might, but giving him a few words of direction from time to time, quietly, as if it were all a matter of course.

      'Reel in, sir, reel in – keep an even strain on him – let him go – let him go if he wants – '

      Well, the fish was not a fierce fighter; after the first long rush he scarcely did anything; he kept boring downwards, with a dull, heavy weight. It seemed easy work; and Mr. Hodson – triumphant in the hope of catching his first salmon – was tempted to call aloud to the melancholy gillie —

      'Well, Duncan, how about luck now?'

      'I think it's a kelt,' the man answered morosely.

      But the sinister meaning of this reply was not understood.

      'I don't know what you call him,' said Mr. Hodson, holding on with both hands to the long, lithe grilse-rod that was bent almost double. 'Celt or Saxon, I don't know; but I seem to have got a good grip of him.'

      'Then he heard Ronald say, in an undertone, to the gillie —

      'A kelt? No fears. The first rush was too heavy for that.'

      And the gillie responded sullenly —

      'He's following the boat like a cow.'

      'What is a kelt, anyway?' the American called out. 'Something that swims, I suppose? It ain't a man?'

      'I hope it's no a kelt, sir,' said Ronald – but doubtfully.

      'But what is a kelt, then, when he's at home?'

      'A salmon, sir, that hasna been down to the sea; we'll have to put him back if he is.'

      Whirr! went the reel again; the fish, kelt or clean salmon, had struck deep down. But the melancholy creature at the bow was taking no further interest in the fight. He was sure it was a kelt. Most likely the minnow would be destroyed. Maybe he would break the trace. But a kelt it was. He knew the luck of this 'tammed' boat.

      The struggle was a tedious one. The beast kept boring down with the mere force of its weight, but following the coble steadily; and even Ronald, who had been combating his own doubts, at length gave in: he was afraid it was a kelt. Presently the last suspicion of hope was banished. With a tight strain on him, the now exhausted animal began to show near the surface of the water – his long eel-like shape and black back revealing too obviously what manner of creature he was. But this revelation had no effect on the amateur fisherman, who at last beheld the enemy he had been fighting with so long. He grew quite excited. A kelt? – he was a beautiful fine fish! If he could not be eaten he could be stuffed! Twenty pounds he СКАЧАТЬ