"Odd! my verra heart lap to my mouth whan I gat the glisk o' something
mair like a red stirk than ought else muve off the redd. I fand my hair
creep on my heid. I minded it was the Sabbath, and I sudna hae been
there. It micht be a delusion o' the Enemy, if it wasna the de'il
himsel'."
All that peaceful Sabbath day Tam's meditations were disturbed by
visions of great salmon. And as at family worship that night his master
read aloud from "the Word," Tam quaked to realise that no syllable had
penetrated his dulled ears, but that, with the concluding solemn "Amen,"
had come to his mind the resolution to clip the wings of the Sabbath,
and at all costs to capture that fish before anyone could forestall him.
According, as soon as his too ardent mind judged that the hands of the
clock must be drawing near to midnight, Tam arose, and, rousing a farm
boy to bear the light for him as he struck, with "clodding waster" in
hand set off for the river. Now this clodding waster (or leister) was a
possession of which Tam was inordinately proud; amongst his friends its
temper and penetrating power were proverbial. It had been made for him
by the Runcimans of Yarrowford, smiths celebrated far and wide for the
marvellous qualities they imparted to all weapons made by them.
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