river lit
up with the lumps of light that a torch makes in a high wind. The
torches, of course, were used to attract the fish, which came swimming
to the sheen, and were then speared. As little noise as possible was
made; but though the men bit their lips instead of crying out when they
missed their fish, there was a continuous ring of their weapons on the
stones, and every irrepressible imprecation was echoed up and down the
black glen. Two or three of the gang were told off to land the salmon,
and they had to work smartly and deftly. They kept by the side of the
spearsman, and the moment he struck a fish they grabbed at it with
their hands. When the spear had a barb there was less chance of the
fish's being lost; but often this was not the case, and probably not
more than two-thirds of the salmon speared were got safely to the bank.
The takes of course varied; sometimes, indeed, the black-fishers
returned home empty-handed.

Encounters with the bailiffs were not infrequent, though they seldom
took place at the water's edge. When the poachers were caught in the
act, and had their blood up with the excitement of the sport, they were
ugly customers. Spears were used and heads were broken. Struggles
even took place in the water, when there was always a chance of
somebody's being drowned. Where the bailiffs gave the black-fishers an
opportunity of escaping without a fight it was nearly always taken; the
booty being left behind. As a rule, when the "water-watchers," as the
bailiffs were sometimes called, had an inkling of what was to take
place, they reinforced themselves with a constable or two and waited on
the road to catch the poachers on their way home. One black-fisher, a
noted character, was nicknamed the "Deil o' Glen Quharity." He was
said to have gone to the houses of the bailiffs and offered to sell
them the fish stolen from the streams over which they kept guard. The
"Deil" was never imprisoned--partly, perhaps, because he was too
eccentric to be taken seriously.

CHAPTER III

THE AULD LICHT KIRK

One Sabbath day in the beginning of the century the Auld Licht minister
at Thrums walked out of his battered, ramshackle, earthen-floored kirk
with a following and never returned. The last words he uttered in it
were: "Follow me to the commonty, all you persons who want to hear the
Word of God properly preached; and James Duphie and his two sons will
answer for this on the Day of Judgment." T