White Heather: A Novel (Volume 2 of 3)

'Just like anybody else,' he said.

'Well, I declare! I thought he would have come with a coach and outriders – in state, you know – '

'What for?' said he impassively. 'He had no luggage, I suppose, but a bag and a waterproof. It's different in the autumn, of course, when all the gentlemen come up, and there's luggage and the rifles and the cartridge-boxes – then they have to have a brake or a waggonette.'

'And that was Lord Ailine,' she said, half to herself; and there was no further speaking between them until they had gone past the Doctor's cottage and over the bridge and were some distance up 'the strath that Mudal laves' – to quote her companion's own words.

'Now,' said he, as he stooped and began to put together the slender grilse-rod, 'we'll just let ye try a cast or two on this bit of open grass – and we'll no trouble with a fly as yet.'

He fastened on the reel, got the line through the rings, and drew out a few yards' length. Then he gave her the rod; showed her how to hold it; and then stood just behind her, with his right hand covering hers.

'Now,' said he, 'keep your left hand just about as steady as ye can – and don't jerk – this way —

Of course it was really he who was making these few preliminary casts, and each time the line ran out and fell straight and trembling on the grass.

'Now try it yourself.'

At first she made a very bad job of it – especially when she tried to do it by main force; the line came curling down not much more than the rod's length in front of her, and the more she whipped the closer became the curls.

'I'm afraid I don't catch on quite,' she said, unconsciously adopting one of her father's phrases.

'Patience – patience,' said he; and again he gripped her hand in his and the line seemed to run out clear with the gentlest possible forward movement.

And then he put out more line – and still more and more – until every backward and upward swoop of the rod, and every forward cast, was accompanied by a 'swish' through the air. This was all very well; and she was throwing a beautiful, clean line; but she began to wonder when the bones in her right hand would suddenly succumb and be crunched into a jelly. The weight of the rod – which seemed a mighty engine to her – did not tell on her, for his one hand did the whole thing; but his grip was terrible; and yet she did not like to speak.

'Now try for yourself,' said he, and he stepped aside.

'Wait a minute,' she said – and she shook her hand, to get the life back into it.

'I did not hurt you?' said he, in great concern.

'We learn in suffering what we teach in song,' she said lightly. 'If I am to catch a salmon with a fly-rod, I suppose I have got to go through something.'

She set to work again; and, curiously enough, she seemed to succeed better with the longer line than with the short one. There was less jerking; the forward movement was more even; and though she was far indeed from throwing a good line, it was very passable for a beginner.

'You know,' said she, giving him a good-humoured hint, 'I don't feel like doing this all day.'

'Well, then, we'll go down to the water now,' said he, and he took the rod from her.

They walked down through the swampy grass and heather to the banks of the stream; and here he got out his fly-book – a bulged and baggy volume much the worse for wear. And then it instantly occurred to her that this was something she could get for him – the most splendid fly-book and assortment of salmon flies to be procured in London – until it just as suddenly occurred to her that he would have little use for these in Glasgow. She saw him select a smallish black and gold and crimson-tipped object from that bulky volume; and a few minutes thereafter she was armed for the fray, and he was standing by watching.

Now the Mudal, though an exceedingly 'dour' salmon-river, is at least easy for a beginner to fish, for there is scarcely anywhere a bush along its level banks. And there were the pools – some of them deep and drumly enough in all conscience; and no doubt there were salmon in them, if only they could be seduced from their lair. For one thing, Ronald had taken her to a part of the stream where she could not, in any case, do much harm by her preliminary whippings of the water.

She began – not without some little excitement, and awful visions of triumph and glory if she should really be able to capture a salmon by her own unaided skill. Of course she caught in the heather behind her sometimes; and occasionally the line would come down in a ghastly heap on the water; but then again it would go fairly out and over to the other bank, and the letting it down with the current and drawing it across – as he had shown her in one or two casts – was a comparatively easy matter. She worked hard, at all events, and obeyed implicitly – until alas! there came a catastrophe.

'A little bit nearer the bank if you can,' said he; 'just a foot nearer.'

She clenched her teeth. Back went the rod with all her might – and forward again with all her might – but midway and overhead there was a mighty crack like that of a horse-whip; and calmly he regarded the line as it fell on the water.

'The fly's gone,' said he – but with not a trace of vexation.

'Oh, Ronald, I'm so sorry!' she cried, for she knew that these things were expensive, even where they did not involve a considerable outlay of personal skill and trouble.

'Not at all,' said he, as he quietly sate down on a dry bunch of heather and got out his book again. 'All beginners do that. I'll just show ye in a minute or two how to avoid it. And we'll try a change now.'

Indeed she was in no way loth to sit down on the heather too; and even after he had selected the particular Childers he wanted, she took the book, and would have him tell her the names of all the various flies, which, quite apart from their killing merits, seemed to her beautiful and interesting objects. And finally she said —

'Ronald, my arms are a little tired. Won't you try a cast or two? I am sure I should learn as much by looking on.'

He did as he was bid; and she went with him; but he could not stir anything. The river was low; the day was clear; there was no wind. But at last they came to a part of the stream where there was a dark and deep pool, and below that a wide bed of shingle, while between the shingle and the bank was a narrow channel where the water tossed and raced before breaking out into the shallows. He drew her a little bit back from the bank and made her take the rod again.

'If there's a chance at all, it's there,' he said. 'Do ye see that stone over there? – well, just try to drop the fly a foot above the stone, and let it get into the swirl.'

She made her first cast – the line fell in a tangled heap about three yards short.

'Ye've got out of the way of it,' said he, and he took the rod from her, let out a little more line, and then gave it to her again, standing behind her, with his hand over-gripping hers.

'Now!'

The fly fell a foot short – but clean. The next cast it fell at the precise spot indicated, and was swept into the current, and dragged slowly and jerkily across. Again he made the cast for her, with the same negative result; and then he withdrew his hand.

'That's right – very well done!' he said, as she continued.

'Yes, but what's the use when you have tried – '

She had scarcely got the words out when she suddenly found the line held tight – and tighter – she saw it cut its way through the water, up and towards the bank of the pool above – and down and down was the point of the rod pulled until it almost touched the stream. All this had happened in one wild second.

'Let the line go! – what are ye doing, lassie?' he cried. The fact was that in her sudden alarm she had grasped both line and rod more firmly than ever; and in another half second the fish must inevitably have broken something. But this exclamation of his recalled her to her senses – she let the line go free – got up the rod – and then waited events – with her heart in her mouth. She had not long to wait. It very soon appeared to her as if she had hooked an incarnate flash of lightning; for there was nothing this beast did not attempt to do; now rushing down the narrow channel so close to the bank that a single out-jutting twig must have cut the line; now lashing on the edge of the shallows; twice jerking himself into the air; and then settling down in the deep pool, not to sulk, but to twist and tug at the line in a series of angry snaps. And always it was 'Oh, Ronald, what shall I do now?' or 'Ronald, what will he do next?'

'You're doing well enough,' said he placidly. 'But it will be a long fight; and ye must not let him too far down the stream, or he'll take ye below the foot bridge. And don't give him much line; follow him, rather.'

She was immediately called on to act on this advice; for with one determined, vicious rush, away went the salmon down the stream – she after him as well as her woman's skirts would allow, and always and valorously she was keeping a tight strain on the pliant rod. Alas! all of a sudden her foot caught in a tuft of heather – down she went, prone, her arms thrown forward so that nothing could save her. But did she let go the rod? Not a bit! She clung to it with the one hand; and when Ronald helped her to her feet again, she had no thought of herself at all – all her breathless interest was centred on the salmon. Fortunately that creature had now taken to sulking, in a pool farther down; and she followed him, getting in the line the while.

'But I'm afraid you're hurt,' said he.

'No, no.'

Something was tickling the side of her face. She shifted the grip of the rod, and passed the back of her right hand across her ear; a brief glance showed her that her knuckles were stained with blood. But she took no further heed; for she had to get both hands on the rod again.

'She has pluck, that one,' Ronald said to himself; but he said nothing aloud, he wanted her to remain as self-possessed as possible.

'And what if he goes down to the footbridge, Ronald?' she said presently.

'But ye must not let him.'

'But if he will go?'

'Then ye'll give me the rod and I'll take it under the bridge.'