A Sunday Salmon and Another [Two stories.] (The Mark of the Whip [In verse.])

Front matter

ARABELLA KENEALY'S NOVELS SOME MEN ARE SUCH GENTLEMEN Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. Fifth Edition. Academy— 'We take up a book by Miss Arabella Kenealy confidsntly expect ing to be amused, and in her latest work we are not disappointed. The story is so brightly written that our interest is never allowed to flag. The heroine, Lois Clinton, is sweet and womanly. ..... The tale is told with spirit and vivacity, and shows no little skill in its descriptive passages.' Pall Mall Gazette—4 A book to be read breathlessly from beginning to end. It is decidedly original ... its vivid interest. The picture of the girl is admir ably drawn. The style is bright and easy.' Literary World—4 A really good story, original, well written and strong. A really excellent and engaging story. The materials are rare, and, we must admit, ideal . . . can be read with interest and enjoyment.' Daily Chronicle — ( Miss Kenealy has original ideas, a nice faculty of literary expression. . . .

Her description of the old house where dwelt her strange young heroine, is quite admirable. . . . There is a quaintness and an air of romance about the whole story, which are very pleasant to note and to remember.' Truth—4 Its heroine is at once original and charming.' DR JANET OF HARLEY STREET Crown Svo, cloth, 2S. 6d. Picture Boards, is. This Book ran through Six Editions in the Six Shilling form. Daily Chronicle — 'It is a clever book, and well worth reading ; it can outstrip the ordinary novel by many knots per day (to pursue the metaphor), and it may make one or two people think who are unaccustomed to that exercise. Miss Kenealy has imagined an interesting character, and realised her vividly.' Pall Mall Gazette— 'In "Dr Janet of Harley Street," Dr Arabella Kenealy has shown that the art of writing lively fiction is not the least of her many accom plishments.

Moreover, she has achieved the rare distinction of producing a novel which is didactic and not dull. Miss Kenealy has a quick sense of humour, and a lively faculty of observation, and her style is vivid and effective.' THE HONOURABLE MRS SPOOR Crown Svo, cloth, 6s. Fourth Edition. Black and -White—* Her latest novel has advanced her to the front rank of lady novelists.' The Daily Chronicle—1 A clever story. The most powerful piece of work that Miss Kenealy has done.' The Pall Mall Gazette— ■' This powerful story . . . brilliantly achieved. Her style is, as always, graceful and easy, and her character sketches are excellent and humorous.' DI&BT, LOM & CO., Publishers, London. OR THE FIFTY-POUNDER DIGBY'S POPULAR NOVEL SERIES Crown Bvo, handsome cloth, price ss. 6d. per Vol. Each Book contains about 320 //., and is printed on superior paper from new type.

Chapter I

A few years ago I was proceeding home from India on three months' privilege leave. Urgent private affairs called me to the old country, but I calculated on settling the purely business part of them in a few days, and on having five weeks of fun and amusement. The only thing I regretted was that I should be at home in the spring, and not in the autumn, when I might have had some sport. On mentioning this to my chum, Jack M'Alister, he said,—" You'll come in for the best of the salmon fishing : but I forgot you were a Cockney, and I suppose never saw a line thrown. It's not a thing you can pick up in a day; no fluking about it, like letting off a gun and chancing the bird to come down." Jack had been an enthusiastic angler at home and out in India the mahseer had felt the dire consequences of his skill and perseverance.

He was a Scotchman to the backbone (and cheek bones too), and could not believe in a sportsman coming out of any other country but his own. We were great friends, and had made many shooting expeditions together, but I was nettled at the tone in which he spoke. True ! I was a Londoner and had never seen a salmon (uncooked) away from the fishmonger's slabs, but I fancied I could catch one in its own element, if I had the chance, and set my heart on it. I told Jack so, and he replied by a scornful laugh, and by saying I had better try when I was at home, adding that if I were to fish till I succeeded, London and its delights would not see much of me during my leave. I answered that I would back myself for £50 to catch a salmon in any reputed river he liked to name before my return. He snapped up my bet at once, and named the Ruddy, a stream of renown, as he said, in the western wilds of Scotland.

He added dryly that I might invest the fifty pounds for him in a new double " Express" by Henry. Then we turned in for the night, after an extra whisky and soda to wish me a pleasant voyage. The next day I started for old England. Home was reached without adventure, aud my business was soon transacted. Then I was free to enjoy myself as I pleased. The season was com mencing, and for an idle man with money in his pockets, and to whom, after a long exile, all the pleasures and amusements of home were doubly attractive, London was a paradise. The weeks slipped away, and so, in truth, did a deal of money, and I had almost forgotten my rash wager. I had said to myself, when any thought of it crossed my mind, that there was time enough. Any fool could catch a salmon, if he had the mind to, whenever he wanted.

At last I found myself within ten days of the expiration of my leave, and still detained in town. Detained ! did I say ? No ! that implies constraint, and few young and healthy Anglo-Indians need much pressure to make them stay there. I should have said I was still linked to London with the light-lying chains of gaiety and pleasure. But I did not like to return without some effort to make good my undertaking. I did not relish the idea of bavins' to listen to MAlister's grim humour as lie chaffed me dryly on the difficulties of salmon fishing, and especially on the impossibility of a Cockney learning to throw a fly successfully, unless entered young. Besides, was not fifty pounds fifty pounds ? Goodness knows how many hundreds of the retrograde rupee ! Accordingly, I started for the north without further delay.

At Edinburgh, I equipped myself with a salmon rod and tackle. I got a book bristl ing with flies with all sorts of queer names which sounded strange to my unaccustomed ears. It seemed a tremendous number wherewith to com pass the death of a solitary fish, but the shop man told me that I must have a large variety if I wished to be successful. So I bought in faith, consoling myself with the thought that the £50 would cover all expenses and leave me to the good. At last, I started for the Highlands by the early mail. The only other occupant of my carriage was a girl. I had seen her walking on the platform before the train came up, and I had hoped that we were to be travelling companions, for she was very nice-looking. I was delighted when I saw her come to my carriage and have her wraps placed on the seat opposite mine.

I flattered myself that she wanted my company, as there were many empty carriages into which she might have gone. Fare well was said to the friends who had come to see her off, the whistle sounded, and we moved out of the station. I was able to have a good look at her as she put her face against the window7 for a last smile to those she had left behind. She was a tall, straight girl, of about twenty, with fair hair and blue eyes. Blue was evidently her favourite colour, for she wore a travelling dress of blue serge ; her tie was blue ; and she had a turquoise ring on her finger. I could also see a very nice ankle and instep sheathed in the same hue — sheathed, I think, is a good word, for what a dangerous weapon, when properly wielded, is a pretty foot and ankle ! But despite the colour of her hose, I was sure my travelling companion was no blue-stocking.

Her face was full of good-temper and mischief, and her healthy colour and lithe, vigorous frame showed that she lived a country life and rejoiced in an out-door, breezy existence. So we travelled on for some hours, and nothing had happened to better our acquaintance. I was not shy with women, but hesitated to speak to one who w7as a stranger to me, unless I could do her some service. At last I took courage and made a beginnings. I had noticed that she had begun to be very restless, as though the confine ment of the carriage was irksome to her. Her hands kept pulling at the buttons of her dress; she put on her gloves, and then took them oft ; she examined the contents of her hand-bag, and then shut it with a snap ; her feet kept poising about here and there, as if longing to break into a reel step; in fact, she evidently was tired of doing nothing.

Finally, I saw her — over my newspaper — take up the label of my hat-box, which was in the compartment next her, and read the name. She smiled. Now, my name" is an uncommon one, but not, I thought, so ridiculous as to make a girl laugh to herself. It is " Bohemian Jones." I believe it was originally " Bohea Jones," from an ancestor who made money in the tea trade and laid the foundations of ourfortunes,butsome later descendant had improved it into its present form. " Well," I thought, " she has chosen to know my name, perhaps she'll like to become acquainted with its owner." So I offered her a bundle of illustrated papers to read. She accepted them with a gracious smile and was deep in the pictures at once. Suddenly she bent over towards me and pointing to one said, " Isn't that splendid ?

Just like the reality ! " I looked at the picture. It represented a man bringing a salmon to the bank, while the gillie bent over the edge of the stream watching for a chance to let it have the gaff. I knew nothing about the subject in those days, so made some general reply, being unwilling to show my utter ignorance. " But," she persisted, " isn't it natural, the way the fish is lashing with its tail and the gillie holding on to the bush with one hand ? I don't much like the gaff myself. I think a man should tail his fish. What do you think ? " Luckily, I had the courage to speak the truth and confess that I knew nothing about salmon fishing. Otherwise, I should probably have made myself ridiculous by saying that I recommended a frequent change of the gaff, believing it to be a name for one of the many lures with which the tackle-maker had bewildered me.

" Oh ! I thought you were a fisherman on your way North, " she said, looking at the netting where my rod and other piscatorial paraphernalia were placed. " Well ! I'm not exactly an angler, but I hope to catch a salmon," I replied. " You ought to get plenty at this time of year, if you can throw a straight line. But do you mean that you've never fished before ? " " Never," I said, " and one fish will be enough for me ; I don't want any more." " Oh ! wait till you've caught one and you'll w7ant to go on fishing for ever; you don't know how exciting it is." " I couldn't, even if I wished, for I have to sail for India next week." " You've put off your sport till very late, sir," said she ; " it was hardly worth while buying a new rod and tackle on chance, especially when you are only a beginner " — the last sentence with a slight look of disdain.

Now, I didn't care about being called "only a beginner" by a young girl, however pretty, so I replied that I fancied I could catch a salmon as soon as most people, and as to its not being worth while, I thought £50 was a good price for a fish. " Fifty pounds ! who'd give that ? Is he a fish monger ? Where does he live ? " " No ! he's not a fishmonger, and he lives in India." " What in all the earth does he want with it ? It would never keep good all that distance ! " " Oh ! he doesn't care about the fish. It Avas only a friend who bet me £50 that I wouldn't catch a salmon in a stream he would name, before I returned to India." " What fun ! What river did he say ? " " The Ruddy. A very good one, isn't it ? " " Yes, a very good one. May I ask your friend's name ? " Jack M'Alister ; he's stationed at Whisoda.

Oh!" Do you know him . " said I " I've relations of that name. We're all cousins in Scotland, you know." Then she went on, "And he bet you £50 you wouldn't catch a salmon in the Ruddy ! How much time have you got ? " " I must leave the first thing on Monday morning. This is Wednesday, so I have only three days clear, as I sha'n't arrive in time to-day to have a cast." " If I w7ere a man," she replied, " I shouldn't mind making you the same bet over again." Then she rose up, and, taking down my new rod from the netting, pulled it out of its cover, and after examining it, said, — " I think this rod would suit me. Would you like to lay it that you'll win your bet ? Anyhow, it won't be much use to you when you go back to India." " Certainly," I said, entering into the spirit of the thing. " I don't mind at all, but against what am I to lay the rod ?

" " Well, I've a new fly -book if you like that, or here is a silver-mounted flask," and she took one out of her bag. " Or perhaps you'd prefer a Skye terrier pup ? " I said I didn't care for them, but would stake the rod against the blue ribbon she w7as wearing round her neck. I thought, perhaps, I had gone too far, for the girl coloured and drew herself up and seemed about to drop the subject altogether. However, she pulled a small pocket-book out of her bag, and without looking at me said coolly, — " We'll book the bet." Then she began to write down, speaking as she did so : " Mr ? " " Jones," I said. "Mr Jones lays his salmon rod against my tie that he will catch a salmon in the Ruddy before he returns to India." " That's all right," I replied. " I've only got till Monday morning." " Sunday doesn't count."

" Of course not," said I. Then she closed the book with a business-like snap, and remarked : " You'll put up at the Royal Hotel, I suppose, at Crank ie ? " I said that was my destination. " Then you can leave the rod there when you go. I'll send for it." I w7anted to know her name, and remarked that if she gave me her address I w7ould send it and save her the trouble, that is, supposing I failed in my attempt. She only replied that it was no trouble, and then drew herself up into her corner, and kept looking out of the window till the train stopped at the station for Crankie. There was a waggonette and pair waiting for her, with an elderly gentleman in it. As she approached he got out and embraced her. I could hear him say, " Glad to see you again, Mary." Then they drove ofl", and I was left to put my things in the dog-cart which bad come for me from the hotel at Crankie, where I found myself after a long drive.

Chapter II

I found three anglers besides myself at the hotel. We had a snug little dinner together and a quiet rubber afterwards, and when, a stiff tumbler of toddy finished, I went to bed, everything seemed to be going smoothly, and I was soon dreaming of monster fish lying in heaps by the river's edge. But alas ! for my dreams. Soon after midnight the rain began, and continued to come down in floods. I knew nothing of it till morning, and when I woke my eyes were greeted by rain driv ing in sheets past the window, and my ears by the hoarse roar of the Ruddy in spate. Nothing but rueful faces inside, and draggled gillies waiting at the door, scanning the heavens in hope of seeing some sign of the weather clearing up. Breakfast was eaten in mournful silence — a prolonged meal — for, in the first place, it was very good ; in the second, we feared all hope of fishing that day was over, and were unwilling to with- '4 A SUNDAT salmon 15 draw from the pleasure and sociableness of being together round the table, when there was nothing to look forward to except the resourceless hours in a Highland inn.

Shon, the oldest of the gillies, and reputed the most weatherwise, was called into council, but gave us no hope whatever of sport that day. "The water's clean ower the yellow stane," he said, " an' ye might as weel fush in a toddy ladle as cast a flee the day." So there was nothing to be done but to comfort ourselves with hope and tobacco, and to wait for the morrow. If the rain were to stop, the stream would go down as quickly as it had risen. By nightfall the weather had greatly improved, and when we went to rest, the stars were beginning to peep out. This was some satisfaction ; but I had lost a day, and the odds against winning my bet were increased. Friday morning was fine ; at anyrate, the rain had stopped. Breakfast was soon over, for the welcome news had come that the river was rapidly falling, and that the "yellow stone" was already half uncovered.

Rods and gear were quickly got together, lunches prepared, and flasks and bottles filled. Soon we were off in a large waggonette, bound for the stretch of water over which the hotel guests had the right of fishing. Each angler had a gillie told off to him for special service. My retainer was a crabbed-looking old fellow, with a blue nose and a very austere, perpetual-Sabbath-looking countenance. He was a poor hand at talking, but had an excellent taste for whisky. He was commonly called " Blue Peter," why, I know not, unless from the colour of his nose. When we reached the fishing ground, we found the stream still running rather heavy, but I was anxious to begin, in order to get some practice in throwing the line. Accordingly, my rod w7as put up, and I marched down to the water's edge, with Peter behind me carrying the gaff If I had been wise, I should have waited till the others had commenced, for then I should have been able to see how a fly ought to be cast, but I foresaw no difficulty about it, and was eager to make my bet safe as soon as possible.

Well, I made my first throw, and the result was horrible to contemplate. Imagine a dozen snakes, in different styles of knots and combinations of coils, falling splash on the surface of the water. Again and again the same result, and the more force I used, the greater the number and the more fearsome where the gyrations and convolutions of the line. At last I had to desist, in order to allow the tangles to be unravelled ; Peter, meanwhile preserving an unbroken silence, but with such a look of grim contempt on his features that I could not help making excuses for myself, saying that I had been a long time in India and was out of practice. He then showed me how to do it — he seemed to make no effort — he allowed the line to go well behind him, then it appeared to come back, almost of its own accord, as straight as a telegraph wire and as light as a snow-flake.

I improved under his teaching, and after whipping off some half-dozen flies, I was getting along pretty fairly. Indeed, in the drumlie, swollen state of the river, I had almost as good a chance as anyone of hooking a fish. To land him would be a different thing. But I flogged on the whole day without any result. Fish came tumbling over in the water near my fly, but would not take it. They were still on the move up stream, and had not settled down to business. My companions were more fortunate, for one of them had two salmon, and both the others one a-piece. I was grievously disappointed at my own non-success, and drove home not in the best of tempers, for the chance of winning my wager was again much diminished. If the next day were wet and the river in flood, I might as well calculate on a certain loss.

Next morning, however, dawned most pro- B pitiously, mild and not too bright, with a gentle breeze from the west. We were all in high spirits as we bustled round the waggonette, putting our rods and gear into it and congratulating ourselves on the fineness of the weather. At the last moment I found I had forgotten my tobacco-pouch, and went to my bedroom to get it. Just as I was taking it up, I heard the sound of wheels below. Thinking that the party were leaving without me, I rushed to the window and looked out. It was a carriage which had just arrived, aDd which, I saw, contained my young companion of the train. The same elderly gentleman was with her who had been at the station to receive her. He got out and commenced chatting with the landlord while the girl beckoned to Blue Peter and began talking to him.

Whatever they might have said, they seemed to be in earnest about something. Of course, I could not hear at the distance I was from them, and when I came downstairs the carriage was gone. We started for the river immediately afterwards. It was in splendid order, having that ruddy tinge which is so dear to the fisher's eye. As Peter was putting up my rod, I asked him who the gentleman in the carriage was. He replied, in his usual short manner, — "The laird." " Who's he ? " " Sir John." " Sir John who ? " Oo ! we just ca' him Sir John." And who was the young lady with him ? The laird's niece." Do you know her name ? " Miss Mary." What's her other name ? " " Oo ! we just ca' her Miss Mary," said Peter, who was evidently getting irritated under my cross-examination, and he added, with marked emphasis, — " She knows how to throw a line."

He then remarked that I had better be quick and begin fishing if I wanted to get a fush, and took me down to a place where he said I should commence. It was a stream past which, on the preceding day, Peter had hurried me, saying it was of no use at all. However, I followed his advice and fished it, supposing that its merits might depend on the volume of w7ater in the river. I did not stir a fin. Peter made me fish it again and again, and I did so in blind faith, but with no better result. He then took me on to other casts at which also I had no success, and by lunch-time I was in despair, especially as the others had been very lucky, aU having got more than one fish. One of them asked me why I had missed over a certain pool, naming it, and I told him that Peter had taken me past it saying there was a better cast above.

He replied that Peter ought to know7 best, as he had lived all his life on the river, but that he himself had always considered it one of the most likely places on the stream. I mentioned this to Peter when we resumed work, but he only snorted angrily and spoke about side strangers and English ers presuming to know better than himself how to fish the Ruddy. I subsided at once and threw my fly wherever he told me, but no salmon ever carne near it. Half -past five and no result ! The waggonette would be here in another hour and my £50 would be nowhere, not to mention my fishing-rod. I was desperate. I sat down to think and have a meditative pipe. I had a long pull at my flask ; I offered none to Peter. I thought he ought to have got me some sport ; I was disgusted with him and everything and everybody.

But I resolved to make a last effort, and, in spite of Peter's protestations, I stopped at a stream where I had seen a salmon landed the day before. It was just at a bend of the river where it almost touched the road which was the principal thoroughfare of the district. At my second cast I saw7 a dash of something silvery and the line began to race out of the reel while my rod was bent into a semi-circle. At last ! the great moment had come. Luckily I kept my head and remembered to hold the point of the rod well up, while the fish dashed about and performed all sorts of vagaries. Peter looked on, sulky and silent, and never offered me a word of advice. I supposed he was annoyed at my having hooked the beast at a spot where he had said there was no use in trying. The salmon never seemed to tire, and I was getting quite exhausted with the excitement and the struggle.

Another gillie came up, and, after a few minutes, suggested that it was time to try to land it. Foot by foot I brought it near the bank ; now we could see the brute, it was getting tired and making great swirls with its tail and rolling about in a helpless fashion. " Twenty pund good," said the gillie. " Fifty," I ejaculated in my excitement, thinking of my money and watching Peter as he stooped over the edge of the stream waiting for a chance to use the gaff. There was no quiet nook into which to lead the fish, the stream was running pretty swiftly and it needed a practised hand to strike with certainty. But now the brute is at his feet almost motionless. " Quick," I shouted, and Peter made a plunge with the iron. I felt my line slacken ; I saw a wild wallop and splash in the water, and my salmon — my fifty pounder — was gone, after being so nearly spent — or earned.

" Ye daft fule," cried the other gillie to Peter, "ye catched the line. I never see ye do yon before." Sickened with disappointment, I turned to climb the bank and saw on the road just above me a carriage which had stopped there. "Miss Mary," as Peter had called her, was in it, accompanied by the same gentleman as I had seen her with before. Both were standing up. They evidently had been watching me playing the fish. As I came near, Sir John — I shall call him so after this — stepped out and said to me : " Hard lines losing a fish like that I " Then he walked a few paces aside to ask how it happened and abuse Peter, who was well known to be an extra clever man with the gaff at ordinary times. I was left standing beside the carriage where my young friend remained regarding me with a look of mischievous delight.

She was about to speak first, when I interrupted her, in a very rude way, I fear, aud said, — " You needn't say you're sorry, for I see you're very glad. Here's your rod ; you've won your bet," and I took it to pieces and placed it under the box seat before Sir John had turned round to come back to the carriage. Then I lifted my hat and walked away without giving her a chance of replying. I rejoined my companions, who had been waiting for me, and drove back to the hotel in the worst of spirits and temper.

Chapter III

That night I was talking over the events of the day with M'Nab, our landlord, as we smoked our pipes at the door of the hotel before turning in. I had been abusing Peter's clumsiness, which I re viled all the more because M'Nab assured me he had never known him do such a thing. Then I turned the conversation on Sir John and his fair young friend, and asked who they were. " Oo ! Sir John Melfort's the biggest proprietor hereabout." " And who is the young lady with him . ' " That's Miss Mary, his niece." " Do you know her other name ? " said I. "Ay! M'Alister, Miss M'Alister. 'Miss Mary,' we call her. She's always coming to stay with the laird." M'Alister ? Of course ! I see it all now. The girl was my friend's sister. I might have seen the likeness if I had not been blind. I knew he had an uncle a baronet; and wasn't one of Jack's names Melfort ? -'4 What a fool I had been to speak so freely to a stranger !