He was a two-pounder, and practised the usual sea-trout tactics
of springing into the air like a rocket. There was a knot on my line, of
course, and I was obliged to hold him hard. When he had been dragged up
on the shingle, the line parted, broken in twain at the knot; but it had
lasted just long enough, during three exciting minutes. This accident of
a knot on the line has only once befallen me since, with the strongest
loch-trout I ever encountered. It was on Branxholme Loch, where the
trout run to a great size, but usually refuse the fly. I was alone in a
boat on a windy day; the trout soon ran out the line to the knot, and
then there was nothing for it but to lower the top almost to the water's
edge, and hold on in hope. Presently the boat drifted ashore, and I
landed him--better luck than I deserved. People who only know the trout
of the Test and other chalk streams, cannot imagine how much stronger are
the fish of the swift Scottish streams and dark Scottish lochs. They're
worse fed, but they are infinitely more powerful and active; it is all
the difference between an alderman and a clansman.
Tweed, at this time, was full of trout, but even then they were not easy
to catch. One difficulty lay in the nature of the wading. There is a
pool near Ashiesteil and Gleddis Weil which illustrated this.
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