The sportsmen returned loaded with fish, upwards of one hundred salmon having been killed within the range of their sport. The best were selected for the use of the principal farmers, the others divided among their shepherds, cottars, dependants, and others of inferior rank who attended. These fish, dried in the turf smoke of their cabins, or shealings, formed a savoury addition to the mess of potatoes, mixed with onions, which was the principal part of their winter food. In the meanwhile a liberal distribution of ale and whisky was made among them, besides what was called a kettle of fish,--two or three salmon, namely, plunged into a cauldron, and boiled for their supper. Brown accompanied his jolly landlord and the rest of his friends into the large and smoky kitchen, where this savoury mess reeked on an oaken table, massive enough to have dined Johnnie Armstrong and his merry men. All was hearty cheer and huzza, and jest and clamorous laughter, and bragging alternately, and raillery between whiles. Our traveller looked earnestly around for the dark countenance of the fox-hunter; but it was nowhere to be seen. At length he hazarded a question concerning him. "That was an awkward accident, my lads, of one of you, who dropped his torch in the water when his companion was struggling with the large fish." "Awkward!" returned a shepherd, looking up (the same stout young fellow who had speared the salmon), "he deserved his paikes [*Punishment] for't--to put out the light when the fish was on ane's witters! [*The barbs of the spear]--I'm well convinced Gabriel drapped the roughies [*When dry splinters, or branches, are used as fuel to supply the light for burning the water, as it is called, they are termed, as in the text, Roughies. When rags, dipped in tar, are employed, they are called Hards, probably from the French.] in the water on purpose-he doesna like to see onybody do a thing better than himself." "Ay," said another, "he's sair shamed o' himself, else he would have been up here the night--Gabriel likes a little o' the gude thing as weel as ony o' us." "Is he of this country?" said Brown. "Na, na, he's been but shortly in office, but he's a fell hunter-he's frae down the country, some gate on the Dumfries side." "And what's his name, pray?" "Gabriel." "But Gabriel what?" "Oh, Lord kens that; we dinna mind folk's after-names muckle here, they run sae muckle into clans."