By this light also were seen the figures in the boat, now holding high their weapons, now stooping to strike, now standing upright, bronzed by the same red glare into a colour which might have befitted the regions of Pandemonium.
Having amused himself for some time with these effects of light and shadow, Brown strolled homewards towards the farm-house, gazing in his way at the persons engaged in the sport, two or three of whom are generally kept together, one holding the torch, the others with their spears, ready to avail themselves of the light it affords to strike their prey.

As he observed one man struggling with a very weighty salmon which he had speared, but was unable completely to raise from the water, Brown advanced close to the bank to see the issue of his exertions.

The man who held the torch in this instance was the huntsman, whose sulky demeanour Brown had already noticed with surprise.

'Come here, sir! come here, sir! look at this ane! He turns up a side like a sow.' Such was the cry from the assistants when some of them observed Brown advancing.
'Ground the waster weel, man! ground the waster weel! Haud him down! Ye haena the pith o' a cat!' were the cries of advice, encouragement, and expostulation from those who were on the bank to the sportsman engaged with the salmon, who stood up to his middle in water, jingling among broken ice, struggling against the force of the fish and the strength of the current, and dubious in what manner he should attempt to secure his booty.

As Brown came to the edge of the bank, he called out--'Hold up your torch, friend huntsman!' for he had already distinguished his dusky features by the strong light cast upon them by the blaze.