n a second attempt brought no better result.
"The fish aren't used to it."

Jock rolled up his sleeves, crept to the side of the burn, and
looked over into the pool.

"Hold to me, Sandy," he said, and Sandy immediately sat down on
his legs. Then Jock suddenly plunged his arms into the water and
before the fish could whisk their tails he had caught one in his
hand and thrown it on the grass.

Springing to his feet and upsetting Sandy, he jumped to a rock in
the middle of the brook and caught two more. It was now the new
boy's turn to be astonished. Apparently Jock had stirred up a
whole school of trout, for Sandy, following Jock's lead, also
leaped into the stream, and in a few moments six fine trout were
flopping about the grass.

"Let's build a fire and cook them," urged the new boy, whose name
they soon learned was Alan McRae. "And if old Angus Niel comes
nosing around we'll offer him a bite! He can do nothing with four
of us, anyway, unless he shoots us, and he'd hang for that. Come
on!"

By this time they were all so thrilled with the sport and were
having such fun that nobody thought any more about Angus anyway,
so Jean ran for a pan, while Jock and Sandy cleaned the fish with
Alan's knife, and Alan gathered dry twigs and bracken for the
fire. Jean brought down some scones, which she split and spread
with butter while the fish were frying. When they were done to a
golden brown she put a hot fish on each piece of scone and handed
them out to the boys, and when they had eaten every scrap they
buried the fish-bones in case Angus should come that way.

After lunch Jean went to wring out the clothes and hang them on
the bushes to dry, while Jock and Sandy examined Alan's wonderful
book of flies and his reel, and even the creel in which he was to
have put the fish, if he had caught any.

"Losh, man!" exclaimed Sandy, swaggering about with his hands in
his pockets, "that's all very well. Aye, it's a good game, and
you might go dandering along a stream all day playing with it,
but if you really want fish, just go after 'em yourself! That's
my way. Guddling for trout like you saw me and Jock do, that's
the real sport!"

"I believe you," said Alan. "I'm going to try it myself. Come on.
Let's go farther up stream and see if we can find another good
fishing-hole. I told Eppie I'd bring her a fish to her tea, and
I'd hate to go back with nothing at all," and the three boys
disappeared in the woods.

Jean finished