CHAPTER XIV.'ABOUT ILLINOIS.'There was a good deal of bustle in the inn next morning; Ronald busy with the fishing-tackle for the second boat; luncheon being got ready for six; and the gillies fighting as to which party should have the landing-net and which the clip. In the midst of all this Miss Carry—looking very smart in her Highland costume, Tam o' Shanter and all—came placidly in to breakfast, and as she sate down she said—'Pappa dear, I met such a pretty girl.''Have you been out?' he asked.'Only as far as the bridge. I met her as I was coming back. And she looked so pretty and shy that I spoke to her; I think she was a little frightened at first; but anyway I got to know who she is—the Doctor's daughter. Oh, you should hear her speak—the accent is so pretty and gentle. Well, it's all settled, pappa; I'm just in love with the Highland people, from this out.''There's safety in numbers,' observed her father grimly; and then he proceeded to explore the contents of the covers.When they were ready to go down to the loch they found that the men had already set out—all but Ronald, who had remained behind to see if there was nothing further he could carry for the young lady. So these three started together; and of course all the talk was about the far too fine weather, and the chances of getting a fish or two in spite of it, and the betting on the rival boats. Miss Carry listened in silence; so far she had heard or seen nothing very remarkable about the handsome young keeper who had so impressed her father. He spoke frankly and freely enough, it is true (when he was not speaking to her), and he was recounting with some quiet sarcasm certain superstitious beliefs and practices of the people about there; but, apart from the keen look of his eyes, and the manly ring of his voice, and the easy swing of the well-built figure, there was nothing, as she considered, very noticeable about him. She thought his keeper's costume rather picturesque, and weather-worn into harmonious colour; and wondered how men in towns had come to wear the unsightly garments of these present days. And so at last they arrived at the loch; and found that the gillies had got the rods fixed and everything ready; and presently the black boat, with Mr. Hodson and his two gillies, was shoved off, and Ronald, before asking the young lady to step into the green boat—the Duke's boat—was showing her what she should do if a salmon should attach itself to either of the lines.'I don't feel like catching a salmon somehow,' she remarked. 'I don't think it can be true. Anyway you'll see I shan't scream.'She stepped into the boat and took her seat; the rods were placed for her; the coble was shoved farther into the water, and then Ronald and the young lad got in and took to the oars. Miss Carry was bidden to pay out one of the lines slowly as they moved away from the bank; and in due course she had both lines out and the two rods fixed at the proper angle, and the reels free. She obeyed all his instructions without haste or confusion. She was a promising pupil. And he wondered what nerve she would show when the crisis came.Now it may be explained for the benefit of those inexperienced in such things that these fishing cobles have a cross bench placed about midway between the stern and the thwart occupied by the stroke oar; and the usual custom is for the fisherman to sit on this bench facing the stern, so that he can see both rods and be ready for the first shaking of the top. But Miss Carry did not understand this at all. In entering the coble she naturally took her place right astern, facing the rowers. It never entered her head to be guilty of the discourtesy of turning her back on them; besides, Ronald was directing her with his eyes as much as with his speech, and she must be able to see him; moreover he did not tell her she was sitting the wrong way; and then again was not the first signal to be the shrieking of the reel?—and both reels were now under her observation, so that she could snatch at either rod in a second. The consequence of all this was that she and Ronald sate face to face—not more than a yard and a half between them—their eyes exactly on a level—and when they spoke to each other, it was very distinctlyunter vier Augen, for the boy at the bow was mostly hidden.'Pappa dear,' she said to her father that evening, 'he is a very nervous man.''Who?''Ronald.''Nonsense. He is hard as nails. He don't know what nerves mean.''He is a very nervous man,' she insisted (and had she not been studying him for a whole day?). 'His eyes throb when you meet them suddenly. Or rather he seems to know they are very powerful and penetrating—and he does not like to stare at you—so you can see there is a tremor of the lid sometimes as he looks up—as if he would partly veil his eyes. It's very curious. He's shy—like a wild animal almost. And that pretty girl I met this morning has something of that look too.''Perhaps they're not used to having the cold gaze of science turned on them,' her father remarked drily.'Is that me?''You may take it that way.''Then you're quite wrong. It isn't science at all. It is an active and benevolent sympathy; I am going to make friends with every one of them. Ronald says her name is Miss Douglas—and I mean to call.''Very well, then,' said her father, who left this young lady pretty much the mistress of her own actions.However, to return to the fishing: the morning did not promise well, the weather being too bright and clear, though there was a very fair breeze—of a curious sultry character for the middle of March—blowing up from the south and making a good ripple on the loch. Again and again the two boats crossed each other; and the invariable cry was—'Nothing yet?'And the answer—'Not a touch.'By this time Miss Carry had got to know a good deal about the young keeper whose eyes were so directly on a level with hers. He had been to Aberdeen, and to Glasgow, and to Edinburgh; but never out of Scotland?—no. Had he no wish to see London and Paris? Had he no wish to see America?—why, if he came over, her father would arrange to have him put in the way of seeing everything. And perhaps he might be tempted to stay?—there were such opportunities for young men, especially in the west. As for her, she was most communicative about herself; and apparently she had been everywhere and seen everything—except Stratford-on-Avon: that was to be the climax; that was to be the last thing they should visit in Europe—and then on to Liverpool and home. She had been a great deal longer in Europe than her father, she said. Her mother was an invalid and could not travel; her brother George (Joidge, she called him) was at school; so she and a schoolfellow of hers had set out for Europe, accompanied by a maid and a courier, and had 'seen most everything' from St. Petersburg to Wady Halfa. And all this and more she told him with the black soft eyes regarding him openly; and the pale, foreign, tea-rose tinted face full of a friendly interest; and the pretty, white, delicate small fingers idly intertwisting the buff-coloured gloves that she had taken off at his request. Inver-Mudal, Clebrig, Ben Loyal, the straths and woods around looked to him small and confined on this quiet morning. She seemed to have brought with her a wider atmosphere, a larger air. And for a young girl like this to know so much—to have seen so much—and to talk so simply and naturally of going here, there, or anywhere, as if distance were nothing, and time nothing, and money nothing; all this puzzled him not a little. She must have courage, then, and daring, and endurance, despite the pale face and the slender figure, and the small, white, blue-veined hands? Why, she spoke of running over to Paris, in about a fortnight's time, to be present at the wedding of a friend, just as any one about here would speak of driving on to Tongue and returning by the mail-cart next day.Suddenly there was a quick, half-suppressed exclamation.'There he is!—there he is!'And all in a second, as it seemed, Ronald had flung his oar back to the lad behind, seized one of the rods and raised it and put it in her hands, and himself got hold of the other, and was rapidly reeling in the line. What was happening she could hardly tell—she was so bewildered. The rod that she painfully held upright was being violently shaken—now and again there was a loud, long whirr of the reel—and Ronald was by her shoulder, she knew, but not speaking a word—and she was wildly endeavouring to recall all that he had told her. Then there was a sudden slackening of the line—what was this?'All right,' said he, very quietly. 'Reel in now—as quick as ye can, please.'Well, she was reeling in as hard as her small and delicate wrist was able to do—and in truth she was too bewildered to feel excited; and above all other earthly things was she anxious that she shouldn't show herself a fool, or scream, or let the thing go—when all at once the handle of the reel seemed to be whipped from her grasp; there was a long whirring shriek of the line; she could hear somewhere a mighty splash (though she dared not look at anything but what was in her hands), and at the same moment she fancied Ronald said, with a quiet laugh—'We've beat them this time—a clean fish!''Do you think we'll get him?' she said breathlessly.'We'll hold on to him as long as he holds on to us,' Ronald said; and she heard him add to himself, 'I would rather than five shillings we got the first fish!''But this thing is so heavy!' she pleaded.'Never mind—that's right—that's right—keep a good strain on him—we'll soon bring him to his senses.'Again there was a sudden slackening of the line; and this time she actually saw the animal as it sprang into the air—a white gleaming curved thing—but instantly her attention was on the reel.'That's it—you're doing fine,' he said, with an intentional quietude of tone, so that she might not get over-nervous and make a mistake.Then he made her stand up, and fortunately the coble was rocking but little; and he moved her left hand a little higher up the rod, so that she should have better leverage; and she did all that she was bid mutely and meekly, though her arm was already beginning to feel the heavy strain. She vowed to herself that so long as she could draw a breath she would not give in.The other boat was passing—but of course at a respectful distance.'Hold on to him, Carry!' her father called.She paid no heed. She dared not even look in his direction. The fish seemed to be following up the coble now, and it was all that the slender wrist could do to get in the line so as to keep the prescribed curve on the rod. And then she had to give way again; for the salmon went steadily and slowly down—boring and sulking—and they pulled the boat away a bit, lest he should suddenly come to the surface and be after some dangerous cantrip. She took advantage of this period of quiet to pass the rod from her left hand to her right; and that relieved her arm a little; and she even ventured to say—'How long is he going on like this?''We'll give him his own time, Miss,' Ronald said.'Don't call me Miss,' she said, with a little vexation.'I—I beg your pardon—what then?''Oh, anything you like. Mind you catch me if I fall into the water.'The truth was she was a little bit excited, and desperately anxious that her strength should hold out; and even permitting herself an occasional gleam of hope and joy and triumph. Her first salmon? Here would be tidings for the girls at home! If only the beast would do something—or show signs of yielding—anything rather than she should have to give in, and weakly resign the rod to Ronald! As for him, he stood almost touching her shoulder.'No, no,' said he, 'there's no fear o' your falling into the water. We've got to get this gentleman out first.'And then her feeble efforts at talking (meant to show that she was not excited, but having exactly the contrary effect) all went by the board. Something was happening—she knew not what—something wild, terrifying, violent, desperate—and apparently quite near—and all the line was slack now—and the handle of the reel stuck in her frantic efforts to turn it with an impossible quickness—and her heart was choking with fright. For why would this beast spring, and splash, and churn the water, while the line seemed to go all wrong and everything become mixed? But her trembling fingers got the reel to work at last; and she wound as quickly as she could; and by this time the salmon had disappeared again, and was bearing an even, dead strain on the rod, but not so heavily as before.'My gracious!' she said—she was quite breathless.'It's all right,' he said quietly; but he had been pretty breathless too, and for several seconds in blank despair.The fish began to show signs of yielding—that last fierce thrashing of the water had weakened him. She got in more and more line—Ronald's instructions being of the briefest and quietest—and presently they could see a faint gleam in the water as the big fish sailed this way or that. But still, she knew not what he might not do. That terrible time had been altogether unexpected. And yet she knew—and her left arm was gratefully conscious—that the strain was not so heavy now; the line was quite short; and she became aware that she was exercising more and more power over her captive and could force him to stop his brief and ineffectual rushes.Once or twice he had come quite near the boat—sailing in on his side, as it were—and then sheering off again at the sight of them; but these efforts to get away were growing more and more feeble; and at last Ronald called—'We'll try him this time—give him the butt well—that's right—lift his head—now——' and then there was a quick stroke of the clip, and the great monster was in the boat, and she sank down on to the bench, her arms limp and trembling, but her hand still grasping the rod. And she felt a little inclined to laugh and to cry; and she wondered where her father was; and she looked on in a dazed way as they killed the fish, and got the phantom-minnow out of its mouth, and proceeded to the weighing of the prize.'Eleven pounds and a half—well done the Duke's boat!' Ronald cried. 'Is it your first salmon, Miss Hodson?''Why, certainly.''You'll have to drink its health, or there'll be no more luck for you this season,' said he, and he reached back for a pocket-flask.'But where is my father?' she said—she was anxious he should hear the news.'Oh,' said he coolly, 'they've been into a fish for the last ten minutes; I wouldna tell ye, in case it might distract ye.''Have they got one?' she cried.'They've got something—and I dinna think it's a kelt from the way they're working.'She clapped her hands in delight. Yes, and that involuntary little action revealed to her what she had not known before—that one of her fingers was pretty badly cut, and bleeding.'What's this?' she said, but she did not heed much—now that the great beautiful gleaming fish lay in the bottom of the boat.Ronald cared a great deal more. He threw aside the flask. A cut?—it was his own stupidity was the cause of it; he ought to have known that her delicate fingers could not withstand the whirring out of the line; he should have allowed her to keep on her gloves. And nothing would do but that she must carefully bathe the wound in the fresh water of the loch; and he produced a piece of plaster; and then he cut a strip off her handkerchief, and bound up the finger so.'What do I care?' she said—pointing to the salmon.And then he begged her to drink a little whisky and water—for luck's sake—though he had been rather scornful about these customs in the morning; and she complied—smiling towards him as the Netherby bride may have looked at Young Lochinvar; but yet he would not drink in her presence; he put the flask aside; and presently they were at their work again, both lines out, and the southerly breeze still keeping up.They passed the other boat.'What weight?' was the cry.'Eleven and a half. Have you got one?''Yes.''How much?''Just over seven.''Duncan will be a savage man,' said Ronald, with a laugh. 'It's all the bad luck of his boat, he'll be saying; though it's good enough luck for the two first fish to be clean fish and no kelt.'However, the Duke's boat fell away from its auspicious beginning that morning. When lunch time arrived, and both cobles landed at a part of the shore agreed upon, where there was a large rock for shelter, and a good ledge for a seat, Miss Carry had but the one fish to be taken out and placed on the grass, while her father had two—respectively seven and thirteen pounds. And very picturesque, indeed, it was to see those white gleaming creatures lying there; and the two boats drawn up on the shore, with the long rods out at the stern; and the gillies forming a group at some distance off under the shelter of the stone dyke; and the wide waters of the lake all a breezy blue in the cup of the encircling sunlit hills. Ronald got out the luncheon, for he had seen to the packing of it—and he knew more about table-napkins and things of that sort than those men; and then, when he had made everything right, and brought ashore a cushion for Miss Carry to sit upon, and so forth, he went away.'Ronald,' Mr. Hodson called to him, 'ain't you going to have some lunch?''Yes, sir.''Come along, then; there's plenty of room right here.''Thank ye, sir; I know where they've put my little parcel,' said he—and he went and sate down with the gillies; and soon there was enough talking and laughing amongst them—faintly heard across the wind.'Well?' said her father, when they were left alone.'Oh, it's just too delightful for anything.'This was her summing up of the whole situation. And then she added—'Pappa, may I send my salmon to Lily Selden?''I wouldn't call it kindness,' said he. 'Looks more like boasting. And what's the good, since she is staying at a hotel?''Oh, she will be as glad as I am even to see it. But can't they cook it at a hotel anyway? I want to be even with Lily about that balloon. I don't see much myself in going up in a balloon. I would just like to have Lily here now—think she wouldn't fall down and worship those beautiful creatures?''Well, you may send her yours, if you like,' her father said. 'But you needn't dawdle so over your luncheon. These days are short; and I want to see what we can do on our first trial.''I'm ready now, if it comes to that,' said she placidly; and she put a couple of sweet biscuits in her pocket, to guard against emergency.And soon they were afloat again. But what was this that was coming over the brief winter afternoon? The sultry south wind did not die away, nor yet did any manifest clouds appear in the heavens, but a strange gloom began to fill the skies, obscuring the sun, and gradually becoming darker and darker. It was very strange; for, while the skies overhead were thus unnaturally black, and the lapping water around the boats similarly livid, the low-lying hills at the horizon were singularly keen and intense in colour. The air was hot and close, though the breeze still came blowing up Strath-Terry. There was a feeling as if thunder were imminent, though there were no clouds anywhere gathering along the purple mountain-tops.This unusual darkness seemed to affect the fishing. Round after round they made—touching nothing but one or two kelts; and this Ronald declared to be a bad sign, for that when the kelts began to take, there was small chance of a clean fish. However, Miss Carry did not care. She had caught her first salmon—that was enough. Nay, it was sufficient to make her very cheerful and communicative; and she told him a good deal about her various friends in the Garden City—but more especially, as it seemed to the respectful listener, of the young men who, from a humble beginning, had been largely successful in business; and she asked him many questions about himself, and was curious about his relations with Lord Ailine. Of course, she went on the assumption that the future of the world lay in America, and that the future of America lay in the bountiful lap of Chicago: and she half intimated that she could not understand how any one could waste his time anywhere else. Her father had been born in a log-cabin; but if he—that is, Ronald—could see the immense blocks devoted to 'Hodson's reaper' 'on Clinton and Canal Streets' he would understand what individual enterprise could achieve out west. The 'manifest destiny' of Chicago loomed large in this young lady's mind; the eastern cities were 'not in it,' so to speak; and Ronald heard with reverence of the trade with Montana, and Idaho, and Wyoming, and Colorado, and Utah, and Nevada. It is true that she was recalled from this imparting of information by a twenty-five minutes' deadly struggle with a creature that turned out after all to be a veritable clean salmon: and with this triumph ended the day's sport; for the afternoon was rapidly wearing to dusk. The gloom of the evening, by the way, was not decreased by a vast mass of smoke that came slowly rolling along between the black sky and the black lake; though this portentous thing—that looked as if the whole world were on fire—meant nothing further than the burning of the heather down Strath-Terry way. When both cobles were drawn up on the beach, it was found that Mr. Hodson had also added one clean salmon to his score; so that the five fish, put in a row on the grass, made a very goodly display, and were a sufficiently auspicious beginning.'Carry,' said her father, as they walked home together in the gathering darkness, 'do you know what you are expected to do? You have caught your first salmon: that means a sovereign to the men in the boat.''I will give a sovereign to the young fellow,' said she, 'and willingly; but I can't offer money to Ronald.''Why not? it is the custom here.''Oh, I declare I couldn't do it. My gracious, no! I would sooner—I would sooner—no, no, pappa dear, I could not offer him money.''Well, we must do something. You see, we are taking up all his time. I suppose we'll have to send for another gillie—if you care to go on with that boat——''I should think I did!' she said. 'But why should you send for another gillie so long as Ronald says he is not busy? I dare say he can tell us when he is; I don't believe he's half so shy as he looks. And he's much better fun than one of these Highlanders; he wants his own way; and, with all his shyness, he has a pretty good notion of himself and his own opinions. He don't say you are a fool if you differ from him; but he makes you feel like it. And then, besides,' she added lightly, 'we can make it up to him some way or other. Why, I have been giving him a great deal of good advice this afternoon.''You? About what?''About Illinois,' she said.CHAPTER XV.WILD TIMES.What that mysterious gloom had meant on the previous evening was revealed to them the next morning by a roaring wind that came swooping down from the Clebrig slopes, shaking the house, and howling through the bent and leafless trees. The blue surface of the lake was driven white with curling tips of foam; great bursts of sunlight sped across the plains and suddenly lit up the northern hills; now and again Ben Hope or Ben Hee or Ben Loyal would disappear altogether behind a vague mass of gray, and then as quickly break forth again into view, the peaks and shoulders all aglow and the snow-patches glittering clear and sharp. The gillies hung about the inn door, disconsolate. Nelly made no speed with the luncheon-baskets. And probably Mr. Hodson and his daughter would have relapsed into letter-writing, reading, and other feeble methods of passing a rough day in the Highlands, had not Ronald come along and changed the whole aspect of affairs. For if the wind was too strong, he pointed out, to admit of their working the phantom-minnow properly, they might at least try the fly. There were occasional lulls in the gale. It was something to do. Would Miss Hodson venture? Miss Hodson replied by swinging her waterproof on her arm; and they all set out.Well, it was a wild experiment. At first, indeed, when they got down to the shores of the loch, the case was quite hopeless; no boat—much less a shallow flat-bottomed coble—could have lived in such a sea; and they merely loitered about, holding themselves firm against the force of the wind, and regarding as best they might the savage beauty of the scene around them—the whirling blue and white of the loch, the disappearing and reappearing hills, the long promontories suddenly become of a vivid and startling yellow, and then as suddenly again steeped in gloom. But Miss Carry was anxious to be aboard.'We should only be driven across to the shore yonder,' Ronald said; 'or maybe capsized.''Oh, but that would be delightful,' she remarked instantly. 'I never had my life saved. It would read very well in the papers.''Yes, but it might end the other way,' her father interposed. 'And then I don't see where the fun would come in—though you would get your newspaper paragraph all the same.'Ronald had been watching the clouds and the direction of the squalls on the loch; there was some appearance of a lull.'We'll chance it now,' he said to the lad; and forthwith they shoved the boat into the water, and arranged the various things.Miss Carry was laughing. She knew it was an adventure. Her father remonstrated; but she would not be hindered. She took her seat in the coble, and got hold of the rod; then they shoved off and jumped in; and presently she was paying out the line, to which was attached a 'silver doctor' about as long as her forefinger. Casting, of course, was beyond her skill, even had the wind been less violent; there was nothing for it but to trail the fly through these rushing and tumbling and hissing waves.And at first everything seemed to go well enough—except that the coble rolled in the trough of the waves so that every minute she expected to be pitched overboard. They were drifting down the wind; with the two oars held hard in the water to retard the pace; and the dancing movement of the coble was rather enjoyable; and there was a kind of fierceness of sunlight and wind and hurrying water that fired her brain. These poor people lingering on the shore—what were they afraid of? Why, was there ever anything so delightful as this—the cry of the wind and the rush of the water; and everything around in glancing lights and vivid colours; for the lake was not all of that intense and driven blue, it became a beautiful roseate purple where the sunlight struck through the shallows on the long banks of ruddy sand. She would have waved her cap to those poor forlorn ones left behind, but that she felt both hands must be left free in case of emergency.But alas! that temporary lull in which they had started was soon over. A sharper squall than any before came darkening and tearing across the loch; then another and another; until a downright gale was blowing, and apparently increasing every moment in violence. Whither were they drifting? They dared not run the coble ashore; all along those rocks a heavy sea was breaking white; they would have been upset and the boat stove in in a couple of minutes.'This'll never do, Johnnie, lad,' she heard Ronald call out. 'We'll have to fight her back, and get ashore at the top.''Very well; we can try.'And then the next moment all the situation of affairs seemed changed. There was no longer that too easy and rapid surging along of the coble, but apparently an effort to drive her through an impassable wall of water; while smash after smash on the bows came the successive waves, springing into the air, and coming down on the backs of the men with a rattling volley of spray. Nay, Miss Carry, too, got her Highland baptism—for all her crouching and shrinking and ducking; and her laughing face was running wet; and her eyes—which she would not shut, for they were fascinated with the miniature rainbows that appeared from time to time in the whirling spray—were half-blinded. But she did not seem to care. There was a fierce excitement and enjoyment in the struggle—for she could see how hard the men were pulling. And which was getting the better of the fight—this firm and patient endeavour, or the fell power of wind and hurrying seas?And then something happened that made her heart stand still: there was a shriek heard above all the noise of the waves—and instinctively she caught up the rod and found the line whirling out underneath her closed fingers. What was it Ronald had exclaimed? 'Oh, thunder!' or some such thing; but the next moment he had called to her in a warning voice—'Sit still—sit still—don't move—never mind the fish—let him go—he'll break away with the fly and welcome.'But it seemed to him cowardly advice too; and she one behind her father in the score. He sent a glance forward in a kind of desperation: no, there was no sign of the squall moderating, and they were a long way from the head of the loch. Moreover, the salmon, that was either a strong beast or particularly lively, had already taken out a large length of line, in the opposite direction.'Do you think,' said he hurriedly, 'you could jump ashore and take the rod with you, if I put you in at the point down there?''Yes, yes!' she said, eagerly enough.'You will get wet.''I don't care a cent about that—I will do whatever you say——'He spoke a few words to the lad at the bow; and suddenly shifted his oar thither.'As hard as ye can, my lad.'And then he seized the rod from her, and began reeling in the line with an extraordinary rapidity, for now they were drifting down the loch again.'Do ye see the point down there, this side the bay?''Yes.''There may be a little shelter there; and we're going to try to put ye ashore. Hold on to the rod, whatever ye do; and get a footing as fast as ye can.''And then?' she said. 'What then? What am I to do?'—for she was rather bewildered—the water still blinding her eyes, the wind choking her breath.'Hold on to the rod—and get in what line ye can.'All this wild, rapid, breathless thing seemed to take place at once. He gave her the rod; seized hold of his oar again, and shifted it; then they seemed to be turning the bow of the boat towards a certain small promontory where some birch trees and scattered stones faced the rushing water. What was happening—or going to happen—she knew not; only that she was to hold on to the rod; and then there was a sudden grating of the bow on stones—a smash of spray over the stern—the coble wheeled round—Ronald had leapt into the water—and, before she knew where she was, he had seized her by the waist and swung her ashore—and though she fell, or rather slipped and quietly sat down on some rocks, she still clung to the rod, and she hardly had had her feet wet! This was what she knew of her own position; as for Ronald and the lad, they paid no further heed to her, for they were seeking to get the coble safe from the heavy surge; and then again she had her own affairs to attend to; for the salmon, though it was blissfully sulking after the first long rushes, might suddenly make up its mind for cantrips.Then Ronald was by her side again—rather breathless.'You've still got hold of him?—that's right—but give him his own time—let him alone—I don't want him in here among the stones in rough water like this.'And then he said, rather shamefacedly—'I beg your pardon for gripping ye as I had to do—I—I thought we should have been over—and you would have got sorely wet.''Oh, that's all right,' she said—seeking in vain amid the whirling waste of waters for any sign or glimpse of the salmon. 'But you—you must be very wet—why did you jump into the water?''Oh, that's nothing—there, let him go!—give him his own way!—now, reel in a bit—quicker—quicker—that'll do, now.'As soon as she had got the proper strain on the fish again, she held out her right hand.'Pull off my glove, please,' she said—but still with her eyes intent on the whirling waves.Well, he unbuttoned the long gauntlet—though the leather was all saturated with water; but when he tried the fingers, he could not get them to yield at all; so he had to pull down the gauntlet over the hand, and haul off the glove by main force—then he put it in his pocket, for there was no time to waste on ceremony.There was a sudden steady pull on the rod; and away went the reel.'Let him go—let him go—ah, a good fish, and a clean fish too! I hope he'll tire himself out there, before we bring him in among the stones.'Moreover, the gale was abating somewhat, though the big waves still kept chasing each other in and springing high on the rocks. She became more eager about getting the fish. Hitherto, she had been rather excited and bewildered, and intent only on doing what she was bid; now the prospect of really landing the salmon had become joyful.'But how shall we ever get him to come in here?' she said.'He's bound to come, if the tackle holds; and I'm thinking he's well hooked, or he'd been off ere now, with all this scurrying water.'She shifted the rod to her right hand; her left arm was beginning to feel the continued strain.'Has the other boat been out?' she asked.'No, no,' said he, and then he laughed. 'It would be a fine thing if we could take back a good fish. I know well what they were thinking when we let the boat drift down the second time—they were thinking we had got the line aground, and were in trouble. And now they canna see us—it's little they're thinking that we're playing a fish.''We' and 'us' he said quite naturally; and she, also, had got into the way of calling him Ronald—as every one did.Well, that was a long and a stiff fight with the salmon; for whenever it found that it was being towed into the shallows, away it went again, with rush on rush, so that Miss Carry had her work cut out for her, and had every muscle of her arms and back aching.'Twenty pounds, you'll see,' she heard the lad Johnnie say to his companion; and Ronald answered him—'I would rather than ten shillings it was.'Twenty pounds! She knew that this was rather a rarity on this loch—ten or eleven pounds being about the average; and if only she could capture this animal—in the teeth of a gale too—and go back to the others in triumph, and also with another tale to tell to Lily Selden! She put more and more strain on; she had both hands firm on the butt; her teeth were set hard. Twenty pounds! Or if the hook should give way? Or the line be cut on a stone? Or the fish break it with a spring and lash of its tail? Fortunately she knew but little of the many and heart-rending accidents that happen in salmon-fishing, so that her fears were fewer than her hopes; and at last her heart beat quickly when she saw Ronald take the clip in his hand.But he was very cautious; and bade her take time; and spoke in an equable voice—just as if she were not growing desperate, and wondering how long her arms would hold out! Again and again, by dint of tight reeling up and putting on a deadly strain, she caught a glimpse of the salmon; and each of these times she thought she could guide it sailingly towards the spot where Ronald was crouching down by the rocks; and then again it would turn and head away and disappear—taking the line very slowly now, but still taking it. She took advantage of one of these pauses in the fight to step farther back some two or three yards; this was at Ronald's direction; and she obeyed without understanding. But soon she knew the reason; for at last the salmon seemed to come floating in without even an effort at refusal; and as she was called on to give him the butt firmly, she found she could almost drag him right up and under Ronald's arm. And then there was a loud 'hurrah!' from the lad John as the big silver fish gleamed in the air; and the next second it was lying there on the withered grass and bracken. Miss Carry, indeed, was so excited that she came near to breaking the top of the rod; she forgot that the struggle was over; and still held on tightly.'Lower the top, Miss,' the lad John said, 'or ye can put the rod down altogether.'Indeed he took it from her to lay it down safely, and right glad was she; for she was pretty well exhausted by this time, and fain to take a seat on one of the rocks while they proceeded to weigh the salmon with a pocket-scale.'Seventeen pounds—and a beauty: as pretty a fish as ever I saw come out of the loch.''Well, we've managed it, Ronald,' said she, laughing, 'but I don't know how. There he is—sure; but how we got him out of that hurricane I can't tell.''There was twice I thought ye had lost him,' said he gravely. 'The line got desperately slack after ye jumped ashore——''Jumped ashore?' she said. 'Seems to me I was flung ashore, like a sack of old clothes.''But ye were not hurt?' said he, glancing quickly at her.'No, no; not a bit—nor even wet; and if I had been,thatis enough for anything.''Johnnie, lad, get some rushes, and put the fish in the box. We'll have a surprise for them when we get back, I'm thinking.''And can we get back?' she said.'We'll try, anyway—oh yes—it's no so bad now.'But still it was a stiff pull; and they did not think it worth while to put out the line again. Miss Carry devoted her whole attention to sheltering herself from the spray; and was fairly successful. When, at length, they reached the top of the loch and landed, they were treated to a little mild sarcasm from those who had prudently remained on shore; but they said nothing; the time was not yet come.Then came the question as to whether all of them could pull down the opposite side of the loch to the big rock; for there they would have shelter for lunch; while here in the open every gust that swooped down from the Clebrig slopes caught them in mid career. Nay, just then the wind seemed to moderate; so they made all haste into the cobles; and in due time the whole party were landed at the rock, which, with its broad ledges for seats, and its overhanging ferns, formed a very agreeable and sheltered resort. Of course, there was but the one thing wanting. A fishing party at lunch on the shores of a Highland loch is a very picturesque thing; but it is incomplete without some beautiful silver-gleaming object in the foreground. There always is a bit of grass looking as if it were just meant for that display; and when the little plateau is empty, the picture lacks its chief point of interest.'Well, you caught something if it wasn't a salmon,' her father said, glancing at her dripping hat and hair.'Yes, we did,' she answered innocently.'You must be wet through in spite of your waterproof. Sometimes I could not see the boat at all for the showers of spray. Did you get much shelter where you stopped?''Not much—a little.''It was a pretty mad trick, your going out at all. Of course Ronald only went to please you; he must have known you hadn't a ghost of a chance in a gale like that.''Pappa dear,' said she, 'there's nothing mean about me. There's many a girl I know would play it on her pa; but I'm not one of that kind. When I have three kings and a pair—'Stop it, Carry,' said he angrily, 'I'm tired of your Texas talk. What do you mean?''I only want to show my hand,' she said sweetly; and she called aloud—'Johnnie!'The young lad jumped up from the group that were cowering under the shelter of the stone dyke.'Bring the fish out of the boat, please.'He went down to the coble, and got the salmon out of the well; and then, before bringing it and placing it on the grass before the young lady, he held it up in triumph for the gillies to see: the sarcasm was all the other way now.'You see, pappa dear, you would have bet your boots against it, wouldn't you?' she remarked.'But where did you get it?' he said, in amazement. 'I was watching your boat all the time. I did not see you playing a fish.''Because we got ashore as fast as we could, and had the fight out there. But please, pappa, don't ask me anything more than that. I don't know what happened. The wind was choking me, and I was half-blind, and the stones were slippery and moving, and—and everything was in a kind of uproar. Perhaps you don't think I did catch the salmon. If my arms could speak, they could tell you a different tale just at this minute; and I shall have a back to-morrow morning, I know that. Seventeen pounds, Ronald says; and as prettily shaped a fish as he has ever seen taken out of the lake.''He is a handsome fish,' her father admitted; and then he looked up impatiently at the wind-driven sky. 'There is no doubt there are plenty of fish in the lake, if the weather would only give us a chance. But it's either a dead calm or else a raging gale. Why, just look at that!'For at this moment a heavier gust than ever struck down on the water—and widened rapidly out—and tore the tops of the waves into spray—until a whirling gray cloud seemed to be flying over to the other shores. The noise and tumult of the squall were indescribable; and then, in five or six minutes or so, the loch began to reappear again, black and sullen, from under that mist of foam; and the wind subsided—only to keep moaning and howling as if meditating further springs. There was not much use in hurrying lunch. The gillies had comfortably lit their pipes. Two of the younger lads were trying their strength and skill at 'putting the stone;' the others merely lay and looked on; an occasional glance at the loch told them they need not stir.It was not jealousy of his daughter having caught a fish that made Mr. Hodson impatient; it was the waste of time. He could not find refuge in correspondence; he had no book with him; while gazing at scenery is a feeble substitute for salmon-fishing, if the latter be your aim. And then again the loch was very tantalising—awaking delusive hopes every few minutes. Sometimes it would become almost quiet—save for certain little black puffs of wind that fell vertically and widened and widened out; and they would be on the point of summoning the men to the cobles when, with a low growl and then a louder roar, the gale would be rushing down again, and the storm witches' white hair streaming across the suddenly darkened waters.'"Ben Clebrig—the Hill of the Playing Trout,"' said he peevishly. 'I don't believe a word of it. Why, the Celtic races were famous for giving characteristic names to places—describing the things accurately. "The Hill of the Playing Trout!" Now, if they had called it "The Hill of the Infernal Whirlwinds," or "The Hill of Blasts and Hurricanes," or something of that kind, it would have been nearer the mark. And this very day last year, according to the list that Ronald has, they got nine salmon.''Perhaps we may get the other eight yet, pappa,' said she lightly.And indeed, shortly after this, the day seemed to be getting a little quieter; and her father decided upon a start. The men came along to the coble. Ronald said to her—'We will let them get well ahead of us; it's their turn now.' And so he and she and the lad John remained on the shore, looking after the departing boat, and in all sincerity wishing them good luck.Presently she said, 'What's that?'—for something had struck her sharply on the cheek. It was a heavy drop of rain, that a swirl of wind had sent round the side of the rock; and now she became aware that everywhere beyond their shelter there was a loud pattering, becoming every moment heavier and heavier, while the wind rose and rose into an ominous high screeching. And then all round there was a hissing and a roar and from under the rock she looked forth on the most extraordinary phantasmagoria—for now the sheets of rain as they fell and broke on the water were caught by the angry mountain blasts and torn into spindrift, so that the whole lake seemed to be a mass of white smoke. And her father?—well, she could see something like the ghost of a boat and two or three phantom figures; but whether they were trying to fight their way, or letting everything go before the tempest, or what, she could not make out—for the whirling white rain-smoke made a mere spectral vision of them. Ronald came to her.'That's bad luck,' said he composedly.'What?' she asked, quickly. 'They are not in danger?''Oh no,' said he. 'But they've got both minnows aground, as far as I can make out.''But what about that? why don't they throw the rods and everything overboard, and get into safety?''Oh, they'll try to save the minnows, I'm thinking.'And they did succeed in doing so—after a long and strenuous struggle; and then Mr. Hodson was glad to have them row him back to the shelter of the rock. Apparently his success with regard to the minnows had put him into quite a good humour.'Carry,' said he, 'I'm not an obstinate man—I know when I've got enough. I will allow that this battle is too much for me. I'm going home. I'm going to walk.''Then I will go with you, pappa,' she said promptly.'You may stay if you choose,' said he. 'You may stay and take my share as well as your own. But I'm going to see what newspapers the mail brought this morning; and there may be letters.''And I have plenty to do also,' said she. 'I mean to call on that pretty Miss Douglas I told you of—the Doctor's daughter. And do you think she would come along and dine with us?—or must I ask her mother as well?''I don't know what the society rules are here,' he answered. 'I suspect you will have to find out.''And Ronald—do you think he would come in and spend the evening with us? I can't find out anything about him—it's all phantom-minnows and things when he is in the boat.''Well, I should like that too,' said he: for he could not forsake the theories which he had so frequently propounded to her.And so they set forth for the inn, leaving the men to get the boats back when they could; and after a long and brave battling with rain and wind they achieved shelter at last. And then Miss Carry had to decide what costume would be most appropriate for an afternoon call in the Highlands—on a day filled with pulsating hurricanes. Her bodice of blue with its regimental gold braid she might fairly adopt—for it could be covered over and protected; but her James I. hat with its gray and saffron plumes she had to discard—she had no wish to see it suddenly whirling away in the direction of Ben Loyal.
CHAPTER XIV.
'ABOUT ILLINOIS.'
There was a good deal of bustle in the inn next morning; Ronald busy with the fishing-tackle for the second boat; luncheon being got ready for six; and the gillies fighting as to which party should have the landing-net and which the clip. In the midst of all this Miss Carry—looking very smart in her Highland costume, Tam o' Shanter and all—came placidly in to breakfast, and as she sate down she said—
'Pappa dear, I met such a pretty girl.'
'Have you been out?' he asked.
'Only as far as the bridge. I met her as I was coming back. And she looked so pretty and shy that I spoke to her; I think she was a little frightened at first; but anyway I got to know who she is—the Doctor's daughter. Oh, you should hear her speak—the accent is so pretty and gentle. Well, it's all settled, pappa; I'm just in love with the Highland people, from this out.'
'There's safety in numbers,' observed her father grimly; and then he proceeded to explore the contents of the covers.
When they were ready to go down to the loch they found that the men had already set out—all but Ronald, who had remained behind to see if there was nothing further he could carry for the young lady. So these three started together; and of course all the talk was about the far too fine weather, and the chances of getting a fish or two in spite of it, and the betting on the rival boats. Miss Carry listened in silence; so far she had heard or seen nothing very remarkable about the handsome young keeper who had so impressed her father. He spoke frankly and freely enough, it is true (when he was not speaking to her), and he was recounting with some quiet sarcasm certain superstitious beliefs and practices of the people about there; but, apart from the keen look of his eyes, and the manly ring of his voice, and the easy swing of the well-built figure, there was nothing, as she considered, very noticeable about him. She thought his keeper's costume rather picturesque, and weather-worn into harmonious colour; and wondered how men in towns had come to wear the unsightly garments of these present days. And so at last they arrived at the loch; and found that the gillies had got the rods fixed and everything ready; and presently the black boat, with Mr. Hodson and his two gillies, was shoved off, and Ronald, before asking the young lady to step into the green boat—the Duke's boat—was showing her what she should do if a salmon should attach itself to either of the lines.
'I don't feel like catching a salmon somehow,' she remarked. 'I don't think it can be true. Anyway you'll see I shan't scream.'
She stepped into the boat and took her seat; the rods were placed for her; the coble was shoved farther into the water, and then Ronald and the young lad got in and took to the oars. Miss Carry was bidden to pay out one of the lines slowly as they moved away from the bank; and in due course she had both lines out and the two rods fixed at the proper angle, and the reels free. She obeyed all his instructions without haste or confusion. She was a promising pupil. And he wondered what nerve she would show when the crisis came.
Now it may be explained for the benefit of those inexperienced in such things that these fishing cobles have a cross bench placed about midway between the stern and the thwart occupied by the stroke oar; and the usual custom is for the fisherman to sit on this bench facing the stern, so that he can see both rods and be ready for the first shaking of the top. But Miss Carry did not understand this at all. In entering the coble she naturally took her place right astern, facing the rowers. It never entered her head to be guilty of the discourtesy of turning her back on them; besides, Ronald was directing her with his eyes as much as with his speech, and she must be able to see him; moreover he did not tell her she was sitting the wrong way; and then again was not the first signal to be the shrieking of the reel?—and both reels were now under her observation, so that she could snatch at either rod in a second. The consequence of all this was that she and Ronald sate face to face—not more than a yard and a half between them—their eyes exactly on a level—and when they spoke to each other, it was very distinctlyunter vier Augen, for the boy at the bow was mostly hidden.
'Pappa dear,' she said to her father that evening, 'he is a very nervous man.'
'Who?'
'Ronald.'
'Nonsense. He is hard as nails. He don't know what nerves mean.'
'He is a very nervous man,' she insisted (and had she not been studying him for a whole day?). 'His eyes throb when you meet them suddenly. Or rather he seems to know they are very powerful and penetrating—and he does not like to stare at you—so you can see there is a tremor of the lid sometimes as he looks up—as if he would partly veil his eyes. It's very curious. He's shy—like a wild animal almost. And that pretty girl I met this morning has something of that look too.'
'Perhaps they're not used to having the cold gaze of science turned on them,' her father remarked drily.
'Is that me?'
'You may take it that way.'
'Then you're quite wrong. It isn't science at all. It is an active and benevolent sympathy; I am going to make friends with every one of them. Ronald says her name is Miss Douglas—and I mean to call.'
'Very well, then,' said her father, who left this young lady pretty much the mistress of her own actions.
However, to return to the fishing: the morning did not promise well, the weather being too bright and clear, though there was a very fair breeze—of a curious sultry character for the middle of March—blowing up from the south and making a good ripple on the loch. Again and again the two boats crossed each other; and the invariable cry was—
'Nothing yet?'
And the answer—
'Not a touch.'
By this time Miss Carry had got to know a good deal about the young keeper whose eyes were so directly on a level with hers. He had been to Aberdeen, and to Glasgow, and to Edinburgh; but never out of Scotland?—no. Had he no wish to see London and Paris? Had he no wish to see America?—why, if he came over, her father would arrange to have him put in the way of seeing everything. And perhaps he might be tempted to stay?—there were such opportunities for young men, especially in the west. As for her, she was most communicative about herself; and apparently she had been everywhere and seen everything—except Stratford-on-Avon: that was to be the climax; that was to be the last thing they should visit in Europe—and then on to Liverpool and home. She had been a great deal longer in Europe than her father, she said. Her mother was an invalid and could not travel; her brother George (Joidge, she called him) was at school; so she and a schoolfellow of hers had set out for Europe, accompanied by a maid and a courier, and had 'seen most everything' from St. Petersburg to Wady Halfa. And all this and more she told him with the black soft eyes regarding him openly; and the pale, foreign, tea-rose tinted face full of a friendly interest; and the pretty, white, delicate small fingers idly intertwisting the buff-coloured gloves that she had taken off at his request. Inver-Mudal, Clebrig, Ben Loyal, the straths and woods around looked to him small and confined on this quiet morning. She seemed to have brought with her a wider atmosphere, a larger air. And for a young girl like this to know so much—to have seen so much—and to talk so simply and naturally of going here, there, or anywhere, as if distance were nothing, and time nothing, and money nothing; all this puzzled him not a little. She must have courage, then, and daring, and endurance, despite the pale face and the slender figure, and the small, white, blue-veined hands? Why, she spoke of running over to Paris, in about a fortnight's time, to be present at the wedding of a friend, just as any one about here would speak of driving on to Tongue and returning by the mail-cart next day.
Suddenly there was a quick, half-suppressed exclamation.
'There he is!—there he is!'
And all in a second, as it seemed, Ronald had flung his oar back to the lad behind, seized one of the rods and raised it and put it in her hands, and himself got hold of the other, and was rapidly reeling in the line. What was happening she could hardly tell—she was so bewildered. The rod that she painfully held upright was being violently shaken—now and again there was a loud, long whirr of the reel—and Ronald was by her shoulder, she knew, but not speaking a word—and she was wildly endeavouring to recall all that he had told her. Then there was a sudden slackening of the line—what was this?
'All right,' said he, very quietly. 'Reel in now—as quick as ye can, please.'
Well, she was reeling in as hard as her small and delicate wrist was able to do—and in truth she was too bewildered to feel excited; and above all other earthly things was she anxious that she shouldn't show herself a fool, or scream, or let the thing go—when all at once the handle of the reel seemed to be whipped from her grasp; there was a long whirring shriek of the line; she could hear somewhere a mighty splash (though she dared not look at anything but what was in her hands), and at the same moment she fancied Ronald said, with a quiet laugh—
'We've beat them this time—a clean fish!'
'Do you think we'll get him?' she said breathlessly.
'We'll hold on to him as long as he holds on to us,' Ronald said; and she heard him add to himself, 'I would rather than five shillings we got the first fish!'
'But this thing is so heavy!' she pleaded.
'Never mind—that's right—that's right—keep a good strain on him—we'll soon bring him to his senses.'
Again there was a sudden slackening of the line; and this time she actually saw the animal as it sprang into the air—a white gleaming curved thing—but instantly her attention was on the reel.
'That's it—you're doing fine,' he said, with an intentional quietude of tone, so that she might not get over-nervous and make a mistake.
Then he made her stand up, and fortunately the coble was rocking but little; and he moved her left hand a little higher up the rod, so that she should have better leverage; and she did all that she was bid mutely and meekly, though her arm was already beginning to feel the heavy strain. She vowed to herself that so long as she could draw a breath she would not give in.
The other boat was passing—but of course at a respectful distance.
'Hold on to him, Carry!' her father called.
She paid no heed. She dared not even look in his direction. The fish seemed to be following up the coble now, and it was all that the slender wrist could do to get in the line so as to keep the prescribed curve on the rod. And then she had to give way again; for the salmon went steadily and slowly down—boring and sulking—and they pulled the boat away a bit, lest he should suddenly come to the surface and be after some dangerous cantrip. She took advantage of this period of quiet to pass the rod from her left hand to her right; and that relieved her arm a little; and she even ventured to say—
'How long is he going on like this?'
'We'll give him his own time, Miss,' Ronald said.
'Don't call me Miss,' she said, with a little vexation.
'I—I beg your pardon—what then?'
'Oh, anything you like. Mind you catch me if I fall into the water.'
The truth was she was a little bit excited, and desperately anxious that her strength should hold out; and even permitting herself an occasional gleam of hope and joy and triumph. Her first salmon? Here would be tidings for the girls at home! If only the beast would do something—or show signs of yielding—anything rather than she should have to give in, and weakly resign the rod to Ronald! As for him, he stood almost touching her shoulder.
'No, no,' said he, 'there's no fear o' your falling into the water. We've got to get this gentleman out first.'
And then her feeble efforts at talking (meant to show that she was not excited, but having exactly the contrary effect) all went by the board. Something was happening—she knew not what—something wild, terrifying, violent, desperate—and apparently quite near—and all the line was slack now—and the handle of the reel stuck in her frantic efforts to turn it with an impossible quickness—and her heart was choking with fright. For why would this beast spring, and splash, and churn the water, while the line seemed to go all wrong and everything become mixed? But her trembling fingers got the reel to work at last; and she wound as quickly as she could; and by this time the salmon had disappeared again, and was bearing an even, dead strain on the rod, but not so heavily as before.
'My gracious!' she said—she was quite breathless.
'It's all right,' he said quietly; but he had been pretty breathless too, and for several seconds in blank despair.
The fish began to show signs of yielding—that last fierce thrashing of the water had weakened him. She got in more and more line—Ronald's instructions being of the briefest and quietest—and presently they could see a faint gleam in the water as the big fish sailed this way or that. But still, she knew not what he might not do. That terrible time had been altogether unexpected. And yet she knew—and her left arm was gratefully conscious—that the strain was not so heavy now; the line was quite short; and she became aware that she was exercising more and more power over her captive and could force him to stop his brief and ineffectual rushes.
Once or twice he had come quite near the boat—sailing in on his side, as it were—and then sheering off again at the sight of them; but these efforts to get away were growing more and more feeble; and at last Ronald called—
'We'll try him this time—give him the butt well—that's right—lift his head—now——' and then there was a quick stroke of the clip, and the great monster was in the boat, and she sank down on to the bench, her arms limp and trembling, but her hand still grasping the rod. And she felt a little inclined to laugh and to cry; and she wondered where her father was; and she looked on in a dazed way as they killed the fish, and got the phantom-minnow out of its mouth, and proceeded to the weighing of the prize.
'Eleven pounds and a half—well done the Duke's boat!' Ronald cried. 'Is it your first salmon, Miss Hodson?'
'Why, certainly.'
'You'll have to drink its health, or there'll be no more luck for you this season,' said he, and he reached back for a pocket-flask.
'But where is my father?' she said—she was anxious he should hear the news.
'Oh,' said he coolly, 'they've been into a fish for the last ten minutes; I wouldna tell ye, in case it might distract ye.'
'Have they got one?' she cried.
'They've got something—and I dinna think it's a kelt from the way they're working.'
She clapped her hands in delight. Yes, and that involuntary little action revealed to her what she had not known before—that one of her fingers was pretty badly cut, and bleeding.
'What's this?' she said, but she did not heed much—now that the great beautiful gleaming fish lay in the bottom of the boat.
Ronald cared a great deal more. He threw aside the flask. A cut?—it was his own stupidity was the cause of it; he ought to have known that her delicate fingers could not withstand the whirring out of the line; he should have allowed her to keep on her gloves. And nothing would do but that she must carefully bathe the wound in the fresh water of the loch; and he produced a piece of plaster; and then he cut a strip off her handkerchief, and bound up the finger so.
'What do I care?' she said—pointing to the salmon.
And then he begged her to drink a little whisky and water—for luck's sake—though he had been rather scornful about these customs in the morning; and she complied—smiling towards him as the Netherby bride may have looked at Young Lochinvar; but yet he would not drink in her presence; he put the flask aside; and presently they were at their work again, both lines out, and the southerly breeze still keeping up.
They passed the other boat.
'What weight?' was the cry.
'Eleven and a half. Have you got one?'
'Yes.'
'How much?'
'Just over seven.'
'Duncan will be a savage man,' said Ronald, with a laugh. 'It's all the bad luck of his boat, he'll be saying; though it's good enough luck for the two first fish to be clean fish and no kelt.'
However, the Duke's boat fell away from its auspicious beginning that morning. When lunch time arrived, and both cobles landed at a part of the shore agreed upon, where there was a large rock for shelter, and a good ledge for a seat, Miss Carry had but the one fish to be taken out and placed on the grass, while her father had two—respectively seven and thirteen pounds. And very picturesque, indeed, it was to see those white gleaming creatures lying there; and the two boats drawn up on the shore, with the long rods out at the stern; and the gillies forming a group at some distance off under the shelter of the stone dyke; and the wide waters of the lake all a breezy blue in the cup of the encircling sunlit hills. Ronald got out the luncheon, for he had seen to the packing of it—and he knew more about table-napkins and things of that sort than those men; and then, when he had made everything right, and brought ashore a cushion for Miss Carry to sit upon, and so forth, he went away.
'Ronald,' Mr. Hodson called to him, 'ain't you going to have some lunch?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Come along, then; there's plenty of room right here.'
'Thank ye, sir; I know where they've put my little parcel,' said he—and he went and sate down with the gillies; and soon there was enough talking and laughing amongst them—faintly heard across the wind.
'Well?' said her father, when they were left alone.
'Oh, it's just too delightful for anything.'
This was her summing up of the whole situation. And then she added—
'Pappa, may I send my salmon to Lily Selden?'
'I wouldn't call it kindness,' said he. 'Looks more like boasting. And what's the good, since she is staying at a hotel?'
'Oh, she will be as glad as I am even to see it. But can't they cook it at a hotel anyway? I want to be even with Lily about that balloon. I don't see much myself in going up in a balloon. I would just like to have Lily here now—think she wouldn't fall down and worship those beautiful creatures?'
'Well, you may send her yours, if you like,' her father said. 'But you needn't dawdle so over your luncheon. These days are short; and I want to see what we can do on our first trial.'
'I'm ready now, if it comes to that,' said she placidly; and she put a couple of sweet biscuits in her pocket, to guard against emergency.
And soon they were afloat again. But what was this that was coming over the brief winter afternoon? The sultry south wind did not die away, nor yet did any manifest clouds appear in the heavens, but a strange gloom began to fill the skies, obscuring the sun, and gradually becoming darker and darker. It was very strange; for, while the skies overhead were thus unnaturally black, and the lapping water around the boats similarly livid, the low-lying hills at the horizon were singularly keen and intense in colour. The air was hot and close, though the breeze still came blowing up Strath-Terry. There was a feeling as if thunder were imminent, though there were no clouds anywhere gathering along the purple mountain-tops.
This unusual darkness seemed to affect the fishing. Round after round they made—touching nothing but one or two kelts; and this Ronald declared to be a bad sign, for that when the kelts began to take, there was small chance of a clean fish. However, Miss Carry did not care. She had caught her first salmon—that was enough. Nay, it was sufficient to make her very cheerful and communicative; and she told him a good deal about her various friends in the Garden City—but more especially, as it seemed to the respectful listener, of the young men who, from a humble beginning, had been largely successful in business; and she asked him many questions about himself, and was curious about his relations with Lord Ailine. Of course, she went on the assumption that the future of the world lay in America, and that the future of America lay in the bountiful lap of Chicago: and she half intimated that she could not understand how any one could waste his time anywhere else. Her father had been born in a log-cabin; but if he—that is, Ronald—could see the immense blocks devoted to 'Hodson's reaper' 'on Clinton and Canal Streets' he would understand what individual enterprise could achieve out west. The 'manifest destiny' of Chicago loomed large in this young lady's mind; the eastern cities were 'not in it,' so to speak; and Ronald heard with reverence of the trade with Montana, and Idaho, and Wyoming, and Colorado, and Utah, and Nevada. It is true that she was recalled from this imparting of information by a twenty-five minutes' deadly struggle with a creature that turned out after all to be a veritable clean salmon: and with this triumph ended the day's sport; for the afternoon was rapidly wearing to dusk. The gloom of the evening, by the way, was not decreased by a vast mass of smoke that came slowly rolling along between the black sky and the black lake; though this portentous thing—that looked as if the whole world were on fire—meant nothing further than the burning of the heather down Strath-Terry way. When both cobles were drawn up on the beach, it was found that Mr. Hodson had also added one clean salmon to his score; so that the five fish, put in a row on the grass, made a very goodly display, and were a sufficiently auspicious beginning.
'Carry,' said her father, as they walked home together in the gathering darkness, 'do you know what you are expected to do? You have caught your first salmon: that means a sovereign to the men in the boat.'
'I will give a sovereign to the young fellow,' said she, 'and willingly; but I can't offer money to Ronald.'
'Why not? it is the custom here.'
'Oh, I declare I couldn't do it. My gracious, no! I would sooner—I would sooner—no, no, pappa dear, I could not offer him money.'
'Well, we must do something. You see, we are taking up all his time. I suppose we'll have to send for another gillie—if you care to go on with that boat——'
'I should think I did!' she said. 'But why should you send for another gillie so long as Ronald says he is not busy? I dare say he can tell us when he is; I don't believe he's half so shy as he looks. And he's much better fun than one of these Highlanders; he wants his own way; and, with all his shyness, he has a pretty good notion of himself and his own opinions. He don't say you are a fool if you differ from him; but he makes you feel like it. And then, besides,' she added lightly, 'we can make it up to him some way or other. Why, I have been giving him a great deal of good advice this afternoon.'
'You? About what?'
'About Illinois,' she said.
CHAPTER XV.
WILD TIMES.
What that mysterious gloom had meant on the previous evening was revealed to them the next morning by a roaring wind that came swooping down from the Clebrig slopes, shaking the house, and howling through the bent and leafless trees. The blue surface of the lake was driven white with curling tips of foam; great bursts of sunlight sped across the plains and suddenly lit up the northern hills; now and again Ben Hope or Ben Hee or Ben Loyal would disappear altogether behind a vague mass of gray, and then as quickly break forth again into view, the peaks and shoulders all aglow and the snow-patches glittering clear and sharp. The gillies hung about the inn door, disconsolate. Nelly made no speed with the luncheon-baskets. And probably Mr. Hodson and his daughter would have relapsed into letter-writing, reading, and other feeble methods of passing a rough day in the Highlands, had not Ronald come along and changed the whole aspect of affairs. For if the wind was too strong, he pointed out, to admit of their working the phantom-minnow properly, they might at least try the fly. There were occasional lulls in the gale. It was something to do. Would Miss Hodson venture? Miss Hodson replied by swinging her waterproof on her arm; and they all set out.
Well, it was a wild experiment. At first, indeed, when they got down to the shores of the loch, the case was quite hopeless; no boat—much less a shallow flat-bottomed coble—could have lived in such a sea; and they merely loitered about, holding themselves firm against the force of the wind, and regarding as best they might the savage beauty of the scene around them—the whirling blue and white of the loch, the disappearing and reappearing hills, the long promontories suddenly become of a vivid and startling yellow, and then as suddenly again steeped in gloom. But Miss Carry was anxious to be aboard.
'We should only be driven across to the shore yonder,' Ronald said; 'or maybe capsized.'
'Oh, but that would be delightful,' she remarked instantly. 'I never had my life saved. It would read very well in the papers.'
'Yes, but it might end the other way,' her father interposed. 'And then I don't see where the fun would come in—though you would get your newspaper paragraph all the same.'
Ronald had been watching the clouds and the direction of the squalls on the loch; there was some appearance of a lull.
'We'll chance it now,' he said to the lad; and forthwith they shoved the boat into the water, and arranged the various things.
Miss Carry was laughing. She knew it was an adventure. Her father remonstrated; but she would not be hindered. She took her seat in the coble, and got hold of the rod; then they shoved off and jumped in; and presently she was paying out the line, to which was attached a 'silver doctor' about as long as her forefinger. Casting, of course, was beyond her skill, even had the wind been less violent; there was nothing for it but to trail the fly through these rushing and tumbling and hissing waves.
And at first everything seemed to go well enough—except that the coble rolled in the trough of the waves so that every minute she expected to be pitched overboard. They were drifting down the wind; with the two oars held hard in the water to retard the pace; and the dancing movement of the coble was rather enjoyable; and there was a kind of fierceness of sunlight and wind and hurrying water that fired her brain. These poor people lingering on the shore—what were they afraid of? Why, was there ever anything so delightful as this—the cry of the wind and the rush of the water; and everything around in glancing lights and vivid colours; for the lake was not all of that intense and driven blue, it became a beautiful roseate purple where the sunlight struck through the shallows on the long banks of ruddy sand. She would have waved her cap to those poor forlorn ones left behind, but that she felt both hands must be left free in case of emergency.
But alas! that temporary lull in which they had started was soon over. A sharper squall than any before came darkening and tearing across the loch; then another and another; until a downright gale was blowing, and apparently increasing every moment in violence. Whither were they drifting? They dared not run the coble ashore; all along those rocks a heavy sea was breaking white; they would have been upset and the boat stove in in a couple of minutes.
'This'll never do, Johnnie, lad,' she heard Ronald call out. 'We'll have to fight her back, and get ashore at the top.'
'Very well; we can try.'
And then the next moment all the situation of affairs seemed changed. There was no longer that too easy and rapid surging along of the coble, but apparently an effort to drive her through an impassable wall of water; while smash after smash on the bows came the successive waves, springing into the air, and coming down on the backs of the men with a rattling volley of spray. Nay, Miss Carry, too, got her Highland baptism—for all her crouching and shrinking and ducking; and her laughing face was running wet; and her eyes—which she would not shut, for they were fascinated with the miniature rainbows that appeared from time to time in the whirling spray—were half-blinded. But she did not seem to care. There was a fierce excitement and enjoyment in the struggle—for she could see how hard the men were pulling. And which was getting the better of the fight—this firm and patient endeavour, or the fell power of wind and hurrying seas?
And then something happened that made her heart stand still: there was a shriek heard above all the noise of the waves—and instinctively she caught up the rod and found the line whirling out underneath her closed fingers. What was it Ronald had exclaimed? 'Oh, thunder!' or some such thing; but the next moment he had called to her in a warning voice—
'Sit still—sit still—don't move—never mind the fish—let him go—he'll break away with the fly and welcome.'
But it seemed to him cowardly advice too; and she one behind her father in the score. He sent a glance forward in a kind of desperation: no, there was no sign of the squall moderating, and they were a long way from the head of the loch. Moreover, the salmon, that was either a strong beast or particularly lively, had already taken out a large length of line, in the opposite direction.
'Do you think,' said he hurriedly, 'you could jump ashore and take the rod with you, if I put you in at the point down there?'
'Yes, yes!' she said, eagerly enough.
'You will get wet.'
'I don't care a cent about that—I will do whatever you say——'
He spoke a few words to the lad at the bow; and suddenly shifted his oar thither.
'As hard as ye can, my lad.'
And then he seized the rod from her, and began reeling in the line with an extraordinary rapidity, for now they were drifting down the loch again.
'Do ye see the point down there, this side the bay?'
'Yes.'
'There may be a little shelter there; and we're going to try to put ye ashore. Hold on to the rod, whatever ye do; and get a footing as fast as ye can.'
'And then?' she said. 'What then? What am I to do?'—for she was rather bewildered—the water still blinding her eyes, the wind choking her breath.
'Hold on to the rod—and get in what line ye can.'
All this wild, rapid, breathless thing seemed to take place at once. He gave her the rod; seized hold of his oar again, and shifted it; then they seemed to be turning the bow of the boat towards a certain small promontory where some birch trees and scattered stones faced the rushing water. What was happening—or going to happen—she knew not; only that she was to hold on to the rod; and then there was a sudden grating of the bow on stones—a smash of spray over the stern—the coble wheeled round—Ronald had leapt into the water—and, before she knew where she was, he had seized her by the waist and swung her ashore—and though she fell, or rather slipped and quietly sat down on some rocks, she still clung to the rod, and she hardly had had her feet wet! This was what she knew of her own position; as for Ronald and the lad, they paid no further heed to her, for they were seeking to get the coble safe from the heavy surge; and then again she had her own affairs to attend to; for the salmon, though it was blissfully sulking after the first long rushes, might suddenly make up its mind for cantrips.
Then Ronald was by her side again—rather breathless.
'You've still got hold of him?—that's right—but give him his own time—let him alone—I don't want him in here among the stones in rough water like this.'
And then he said, rather shamefacedly—
'I beg your pardon for gripping ye as I had to do—I—I thought we should have been over—and you would have got sorely wet.'
'Oh, that's all right,' she said—seeking in vain amid the whirling waste of waters for any sign or glimpse of the salmon. 'But you—you must be very wet—why did you jump into the water?'
'Oh, that's nothing—there, let him go!—give him his own way!—now, reel in a bit—quicker—quicker—that'll do, now.'
As soon as she had got the proper strain on the fish again, she held out her right hand.
'Pull off my glove, please,' she said—but still with her eyes intent on the whirling waves.
Well, he unbuttoned the long gauntlet—though the leather was all saturated with water; but when he tried the fingers, he could not get them to yield at all; so he had to pull down the gauntlet over the hand, and haul off the glove by main force—then he put it in his pocket, for there was no time to waste on ceremony.
There was a sudden steady pull on the rod; and away went the reel.
'Let him go—let him go—ah, a good fish, and a clean fish too! I hope he'll tire himself out there, before we bring him in among the stones.'
Moreover, the gale was abating somewhat, though the big waves still kept chasing each other in and springing high on the rocks. She became more eager about getting the fish. Hitherto, she had been rather excited and bewildered, and intent only on doing what she was bid; now the prospect of really landing the salmon had become joyful.
'But how shall we ever get him to come in here?' she said.
'He's bound to come, if the tackle holds; and I'm thinking he's well hooked, or he'd been off ere now, with all this scurrying water.'
She shifted the rod to her right hand; her left arm was beginning to feel the continued strain.
'Has the other boat been out?' she asked.
'No, no,' said he, and then he laughed. 'It would be a fine thing if we could take back a good fish. I know well what they were thinking when we let the boat drift down the second time—they were thinking we had got the line aground, and were in trouble. And now they canna see us—it's little they're thinking that we're playing a fish.'
'We' and 'us' he said quite naturally; and she, also, had got into the way of calling him Ronald—as every one did.
Well, that was a long and a stiff fight with the salmon; for whenever it found that it was being towed into the shallows, away it went again, with rush on rush, so that Miss Carry had her work cut out for her, and had every muscle of her arms and back aching.
'Twenty pounds, you'll see,' she heard the lad Johnnie say to his companion; and Ronald answered him—
'I would rather than ten shillings it was.'
Twenty pounds! She knew that this was rather a rarity on this loch—ten or eleven pounds being about the average; and if only she could capture this animal—in the teeth of a gale too—and go back to the others in triumph, and also with another tale to tell to Lily Selden! She put more and more strain on; she had both hands firm on the butt; her teeth were set hard. Twenty pounds! Or if the hook should give way? Or the line be cut on a stone? Or the fish break it with a spring and lash of its tail? Fortunately she knew but little of the many and heart-rending accidents that happen in salmon-fishing, so that her fears were fewer than her hopes; and at last her heart beat quickly when she saw Ronald take the clip in his hand.
But he was very cautious; and bade her take time; and spoke in an equable voice—just as if she were not growing desperate, and wondering how long her arms would hold out! Again and again, by dint of tight reeling up and putting on a deadly strain, she caught a glimpse of the salmon; and each of these times she thought she could guide it sailingly towards the spot where Ronald was crouching down by the rocks; and then again it would turn and head away and disappear—taking the line very slowly now, but still taking it. She took advantage of one of these pauses in the fight to step farther back some two or three yards; this was at Ronald's direction; and she obeyed without understanding. But soon she knew the reason; for at last the salmon seemed to come floating in without even an effort at refusal; and as she was called on to give him the butt firmly, she found she could almost drag him right up and under Ronald's arm. And then there was a loud 'hurrah!' from the lad John as the big silver fish gleamed in the air; and the next second it was lying there on the withered grass and bracken. Miss Carry, indeed, was so excited that she came near to breaking the top of the rod; she forgot that the struggle was over; and still held on tightly.
'Lower the top, Miss,' the lad John said, 'or ye can put the rod down altogether.'
Indeed he took it from her to lay it down safely, and right glad was she; for she was pretty well exhausted by this time, and fain to take a seat on one of the rocks while they proceeded to weigh the salmon with a pocket-scale.
'Seventeen pounds—and a beauty: as pretty a fish as ever I saw come out of the loch.'
'Well, we've managed it, Ronald,' said she, laughing, 'but I don't know how. There he is—sure; but how we got him out of that hurricane I can't tell.'
'There was twice I thought ye had lost him,' said he gravely. 'The line got desperately slack after ye jumped ashore——'
'Jumped ashore?' she said. 'Seems to me I was flung ashore, like a sack of old clothes.'
'But ye were not hurt?' said he, glancing quickly at her.
'No, no; not a bit—nor even wet; and if I had been,thatis enough for anything.'
'Johnnie, lad, get some rushes, and put the fish in the box. We'll have a surprise for them when we get back, I'm thinking.'
'And can we get back?' she said.
'We'll try, anyway—oh yes—it's no so bad now.'
But still it was a stiff pull; and they did not think it worth while to put out the line again. Miss Carry devoted her whole attention to sheltering herself from the spray; and was fairly successful. When, at length, they reached the top of the loch and landed, they were treated to a little mild sarcasm from those who had prudently remained on shore; but they said nothing; the time was not yet come.
Then came the question as to whether all of them could pull down the opposite side of the loch to the big rock; for there they would have shelter for lunch; while here in the open every gust that swooped down from the Clebrig slopes caught them in mid career. Nay, just then the wind seemed to moderate; so they made all haste into the cobles; and in due time the whole party were landed at the rock, which, with its broad ledges for seats, and its overhanging ferns, formed a very agreeable and sheltered resort. Of course, there was but the one thing wanting. A fishing party at lunch on the shores of a Highland loch is a very picturesque thing; but it is incomplete without some beautiful silver-gleaming object in the foreground. There always is a bit of grass looking as if it were just meant for that display; and when the little plateau is empty, the picture lacks its chief point of interest.
'Well, you caught something if it wasn't a salmon,' her father said, glancing at her dripping hat and hair.
'Yes, we did,' she answered innocently.
'You must be wet through in spite of your waterproof. Sometimes I could not see the boat at all for the showers of spray. Did you get much shelter where you stopped?'
'Not much—a little.'
'It was a pretty mad trick, your going out at all. Of course Ronald only went to please you; he must have known you hadn't a ghost of a chance in a gale like that.'
'Pappa dear,' said she, 'there's nothing mean about me. There's many a girl I know would play it on her pa; but I'm not one of that kind. When I have three kings and a pair—
'Stop it, Carry,' said he angrily, 'I'm tired of your Texas talk. What do you mean?'
'I only want to show my hand,' she said sweetly; and she called aloud—'Johnnie!'
The young lad jumped up from the group that were cowering under the shelter of the stone dyke.
'Bring the fish out of the boat, please.'
He went down to the coble, and got the salmon out of the well; and then, before bringing it and placing it on the grass before the young lady, he held it up in triumph for the gillies to see: the sarcasm was all the other way now.
'You see, pappa dear, you would have bet your boots against it, wouldn't you?' she remarked.
'But where did you get it?' he said, in amazement. 'I was watching your boat all the time. I did not see you playing a fish.'
'Because we got ashore as fast as we could, and had the fight out there. But please, pappa, don't ask me anything more than that. I don't know what happened. The wind was choking me, and I was half-blind, and the stones were slippery and moving, and—and everything was in a kind of uproar. Perhaps you don't think I did catch the salmon. If my arms could speak, they could tell you a different tale just at this minute; and I shall have a back to-morrow morning, I know that. Seventeen pounds, Ronald says; and as prettily shaped a fish as he has ever seen taken out of the lake.'
'He is a handsome fish,' her father admitted; and then he looked up impatiently at the wind-driven sky. 'There is no doubt there are plenty of fish in the lake, if the weather would only give us a chance. But it's either a dead calm or else a raging gale. Why, just look at that!'
For at this moment a heavier gust than ever struck down on the water—and widened rapidly out—and tore the tops of the waves into spray—until a whirling gray cloud seemed to be flying over to the other shores. The noise and tumult of the squall were indescribable; and then, in five or six minutes or so, the loch began to reappear again, black and sullen, from under that mist of foam; and the wind subsided—only to keep moaning and howling as if meditating further springs. There was not much use in hurrying lunch. The gillies had comfortably lit their pipes. Two of the younger lads were trying their strength and skill at 'putting the stone;' the others merely lay and looked on; an occasional glance at the loch told them they need not stir.
It was not jealousy of his daughter having caught a fish that made Mr. Hodson impatient; it was the waste of time. He could not find refuge in correspondence; he had no book with him; while gazing at scenery is a feeble substitute for salmon-fishing, if the latter be your aim. And then again the loch was very tantalising—awaking delusive hopes every few minutes. Sometimes it would become almost quiet—save for certain little black puffs of wind that fell vertically and widened and widened out; and they would be on the point of summoning the men to the cobles when, with a low growl and then a louder roar, the gale would be rushing down again, and the storm witches' white hair streaming across the suddenly darkened waters.
'"Ben Clebrig—the Hill of the Playing Trout,"' said he peevishly. 'I don't believe a word of it. Why, the Celtic races were famous for giving characteristic names to places—describing the things accurately. "The Hill of the Playing Trout!" Now, if they had called it "The Hill of the Infernal Whirlwinds," or "The Hill of Blasts and Hurricanes," or something of that kind, it would have been nearer the mark. And this very day last year, according to the list that Ronald has, they got nine salmon.'
'Perhaps we may get the other eight yet, pappa,' said she lightly.
And indeed, shortly after this, the day seemed to be getting a little quieter; and her father decided upon a start. The men came along to the coble. Ronald said to her—
'We will let them get well ahead of us; it's their turn now.' And so he and she and the lad John remained on the shore, looking after the departing boat, and in all sincerity wishing them good luck.
Presently she said, 'What's that?'—for something had struck her sharply on the cheek. It was a heavy drop of rain, that a swirl of wind had sent round the side of the rock; and now she became aware that everywhere beyond their shelter there was a loud pattering, becoming every moment heavier and heavier, while the wind rose and rose into an ominous high screeching. And then all round there was a hissing and a roar and from under the rock she looked forth on the most extraordinary phantasmagoria—for now the sheets of rain as they fell and broke on the water were caught by the angry mountain blasts and torn into spindrift, so that the whole lake seemed to be a mass of white smoke. And her father?—well, she could see something like the ghost of a boat and two or three phantom figures; but whether they were trying to fight their way, or letting everything go before the tempest, or what, she could not make out—for the whirling white rain-smoke made a mere spectral vision of them. Ronald came to her.
'That's bad luck,' said he composedly.
'What?' she asked, quickly. 'They are not in danger?'
'Oh no,' said he. 'But they've got both minnows aground, as far as I can make out.'
'But what about that? why don't they throw the rods and everything overboard, and get into safety?'
'Oh, they'll try to save the minnows, I'm thinking.'
And they did succeed in doing so—after a long and strenuous struggle; and then Mr. Hodson was glad to have them row him back to the shelter of the rock. Apparently his success with regard to the minnows had put him into quite a good humour.
'Carry,' said he, 'I'm not an obstinate man—I know when I've got enough. I will allow that this battle is too much for me. I'm going home. I'm going to walk.'
'Then I will go with you, pappa,' she said promptly.
'You may stay if you choose,' said he. 'You may stay and take my share as well as your own. But I'm going to see what newspapers the mail brought this morning; and there may be letters.'
'And I have plenty to do also,' said she. 'I mean to call on that pretty Miss Douglas I told you of—the Doctor's daughter. And do you think she would come along and dine with us?—or must I ask her mother as well?'
'I don't know what the society rules are here,' he answered. 'I suspect you will have to find out.'
'And Ronald—do you think he would come in and spend the evening with us? I can't find out anything about him—it's all phantom-minnows and things when he is in the boat.'
'Well, I should like that too,' said he: for he could not forsake the theories which he had so frequently propounded to her.
And so they set forth for the inn, leaving the men to get the boats back when they could; and after a long and brave battling with rain and wind they achieved shelter at last. And then Miss Carry had to decide what costume would be most appropriate for an afternoon call in the Highlands—on a day filled with pulsating hurricanes. Her bodice of blue with its regimental gold braid she might fairly adopt—for it could be covered over and protected; but her James I. hat with its gray and saffron plumes she had to discard—she had no wish to see it suddenly whirling away in the direction of Ben Loyal.