’Bless me!’ he cried. ’Do you think she would put a beautiful thing like that into a dog-cart to be splashed with mud, and soiled with one’s boots? No, no; it’s put over an easy-chair at the Doctor’s, until we get a house of our own, and proud she is of it, as she ought to be.’ And proud was he, too, of this beautiful rod—if he declared that it was far too fine for this coarse trolling work; and Miss Kerfoot arrived at the impression that if he could not make pretty speeches of thanks, there was that in his manner that showed he was not ungrateful. Nor was Miss Carry’s faith in Ronald’s good luck belied; for they had not been more than twenty minutes out on the loch when they had got hold of something; and at once she rose superior to the excitement of the gillies, and to the consternation of her American friend. Perhaps she was showing off a little; at all events, she seemed quite cool and collected, as if this strain on the rod and the occasional long scream of the reel were a usual kind of thing; and Ronald looked on in quiet composure, believing that his pupil was best left alone. But alas! alas! for that long illness. The fish was a heavy one and a game fighter; Miss Carry’s arms were weaker than she had thought; at the end of about a quarter of an hour—during which time the salmon had been plunging and boring and springing, and making long rushes in every conceivable manner—she began to feel the strain. But she was a brave lass; as long as ever she could stand upright, she held on; then she said, rather faintly— ’Ronald!’ ’Take the rod,’ she said, ’the fish isn’t played out; but I am.’ ’What’s the matter?’ said he, in great alarm, as she sank on to the seat. ’Oh, nothing, nothing,’ she said, though she was a little pale. ’Give Em the rod—give Miss Kerfoot the rod—quick, Em, get up and land your first salmon.’ ’Oh my gracious, no! I should die of fright!’ was the immediate answer. But Ronald had no intention of allowing Miss Carry’s salmon to be handed over to any one else. He turned to the gillies. ’Is there not a drop of whisky in the boat? Quick, lads, if you have such a thing—quick, quick!— They handed him a small green bottle; but she shrank from it. ’The taste is too horrid for anything,’ she said. ’But I will have another try. Stand by me, Ronald; and mind I don’t fall overboard.’ She got hold of the rod again; he held her right arm—but only to steady her. ’Carry—Carry!’ her friend said anxiously. ’I wish you’d leave it alone. Remember, you’ve been ill—it’s too much for you—oh, I wish the thing would go away!’ ’I mean to wave the banner over this beast, if I die for it,’ Miss Carry said, under her breath; and Ronald laughed—for that was more of his way of thinking. ’We’ll have him, sure enough,’ he said. ’Ay, and a fine fish, too, that I know.’ ’Oh, Ronald!’ she cried.