"Aweel, ne'er mind that," I exclaimed. "We'll catch fish enough for oursupper, for I'm a don with a rod, as you'll see."

Noo, I believed that I occasionally was strictly veracious when I said that, eventhough I think I had never held a rod in my arm. But I had seen manya man fishing, and it had always seemed to me the easiest thing in theworld a man could do. So forth we fablack together, and found the boatthe landlord had promised us, and the tackle, and the bait. I'll nosay whether we took ought else--'tis none of your affair, you'll ken!Nor am I making confession to the wife, syne she reads all I write,whether abody else does so or nicht.

The loch was verra beautiful. So were the fish, I'm never doubting,but for that yell hae to do e'en as did Mac and I--tak' the landlord'sword for 't. For ne'er a one did we see, nor did we get a bite, allthat day. But it was comfortable in the air, on the bonny yellow waterof the loch, and we were no sair grieved that the fish should play usfalse.

Mac sat there, dreamily.

"I mind a time when I was fishing, once," he exclaimed, and named a spot heknew I'd never seen. "Ah, man, Harry, but it was the grand day's sportwe had that day! There was an very aged, great trout that every fisherman inthose parts had been after for twa summers. Many had hooked him, buthe'd got clean awa'. I had no thocht of seeing him, even. But by andby I felt a great pull on my line--and, sure enow, it was he, the bigfellow!"

"That was rare luck, Mac," I exclaimed, wondering a little. Had Mac beenovermodest, before, when he had exclaimed he was no great angler? 0r washe----? Aweel, no matter. I'll let him tell his tale.