"Eh, man!" said Jock, thus encouraged to speak on a favourite topic, "what a conceit it is when ye reach a fine run on a warm spring mornin’, the wuds hotchin’ wi’ birds, an’ dauds o’ licht noos and thans glintin’ on the water; an’ the water itsel’ in trim order, a wee doon, after a nicht’s spate, and wi’ a drap o’ porter in’t, an’ rowin’ and bubblin’ ower the big stanes, curlin’ into the linn and oot o’t; and you up tae the henches in a dark neuk whaur the fish canna see ye; an’ than to get a lang cast in the breeze that soughs in the bushes, an’ see yer flee licht in the vera place ye want, quiet as a midge lichts on yer nose, or a bumbee on a flower o’ clover, an’----" Johnnie was bursting with almost as much excitement as Jock, but did not interrupt him except with a laugh expressive of his delight. "An’ than," continued Jock, "whan a muckle chiel’ o’ a salmon, wi’oot time tae consider whether yer flee is for his wame or only for his mooth--whether it’s made by natur’ or by Jock Hall--plays flap! and by mistak’ gangs to digest what he has gotten for his breakfast, but suspec’s he canna swallow the line alang wi’ his mornin’ meal till he taks some exercise!--an’ then tae see the line ticht, and the rod bendin’ like a heuk, and tae fin’ something gaun frae the fish up the line and up the rod till it reaches yer verra heart, that gangs _pit pat_ at yer throat like a tickin’ watch; until the bonnie cratur’, efter rinnin’ up and doon like mad, noo skulkin’ aside a stane tae cure his teethache, then bilkin’ awa’ wi’ a scunner at the line and trying every dodge, syne gies in, comes tae yer han’ clean beat in fair play, and lies on the bank sayin’ ’Wae’s me’ wi’ his tail, an’ makin’ his will wi’ his gills and mooth time aboot!--eh, man, it’s splendid!" Jock wearied himself with the description. "Whaur hae ye fished?" asked Hugh, after a pause during which he had evidently enjoyed Jock’s description. "In the wast water and east water; in the big linn an’ wee linn, in the Loch o’ the Whins, in the Red Burn, an’ in----" "I dinna ken thae waters at a’," remarked the keeper, interrupting him, "nor ever heard o’ them!" "Nor me," chimed in old John, "though I hae been here for mair than fifty year." "Maybe no’," said Jock with a laugh, "for they’re in the back o’ the beyonts, and that’s a place few folk hae seen, I do assure you--ha! ha! ha!" Jock had, in fact, fished the best streams watched by the keepers throughout the whole district. Young John was delighted with this new acquaintance, and looked up to him with the greatest reverence. "What kin’ o’ flee duve ye fish wi’?" asked Johnnie. "Hae ye ony aboot ye e’enoo?"