"Come, Fred, get up, it's such jolly weather. Make haste, and then we
can go down the garden before breakfast," said Harry, the next morning.
"Aw-aw-yaw-aw-aw," said Fred, gaping dreadfully, and so sleepily that he
forgot to place his hand before his mouth.
"Oh! come, I say, that won't do down in the country; here, it's seven
o'clock, and we're going to have such a stinging hot day. Do get up and
dress. There is Phil down the garden now."
"Ah-aw-aw--yes, I'll get up," said Fred, yawning again. "But what early
folks you are; we don't get up so soon at home. What time do you have
breakfast?"
"Eight o'clock, and Papa never waits for anybody; so make haste down, or
we shan't have time to do anything before it's breakfast bell."
"I want some hot water," said Fred, grumpily.
"What for?" said Harry.
"Why, to wash in, of course," said Fred.
"Ho! ho! ho!" burst out Harry, laughing, "hot water to wash with in
July! Why, we never use any all through the winter, when it's ever so
cold, and the jugs get frozen over. You try cold water, it's ever so
much better, and makes you have red cheeks like Phil's."
"Hi, hallo-o-o!" shouted somebody front out of doors.
"There's Phil," said Harry, going to the window and throwing it open,
when in came gushing the sweet morning air, laden with the dew sweetness
of a thousand flowers. The roses and jasmine nodded round the casement,
and from almost every tree within reach of hearing, right down to the
coppice, came ringing forth the merry morning songs of the birds.
"Oh!" said Fred, in a burst of admiration as he went to the window, half
dressed; "oh! isn't it beautiful? I never thought the country half so
pretty. I wish I had got up sooner."
"Do you?" said Harry. "Won't we have you up, then, to-morrow morning!
But only look; Phil has found an old `bottle washer.' Do make haste and
come down, and we'll put him in the ferret's cage."
"Oh! do stop," said Fred, splashing his face about in the cold water,
and hurrying to get finished; "do stop for me, there's a good fellow."
Five minutes after the three lads were together upon the lawn, rolling a
prickly, spiky hedgehog over and over in the vain hope of getting him to
open out and show his black, bright little eyes, and sharp piggy like
snout; all which time old Sam was busy at work, making his keen bright
scythe shave off the little yellow-eyed daisies that seemed sprinkled
all over the green turf that was so soft and elastic to the feet.
"Chinkle chingle, chinkle chingle," rang out the scythe, as he held it
over his shoulder, and sharpened it with his gritty rubber, and then
again shave, shave, shave, over the velvet grass, till long rows of the
little strands lay across the lawn.
A comical old fellow was Sam, and he used to say that no one loved the
young masters so well as he did; but somehow or another Sam never used
to see them out in the garden without finding something to grumble
about. His complaints were generally without foundation; but Sam used
to think he had cause to complain; and, being rather an old man, he used
to consider he had a right so to do.
"Now then, Master Harry, you're at it again! What's the use of my
trying to keep the garden nice if you will keep racing about over it
like that? I wish you'd keep indoors, I do."
"We ain't going to, though, are we, Phil?" said Harry, laughing. "Old
Sam would be sure to fetch us out again if we did; wouldn't you, Sam?"
Old Sam grinned, and shook his head, and just then eight o'clock struck
by the village church, which was about a mile off, so Sam wiped his
scythe, and, shouldering it, walked off to his breakfast, just as a
cheery cry of--"Now, boys," came from out of the verandah, where Mr and
Mrs Inglis were standing, watching the lads upon the lawn.
The pretty breakfast-room looked so bright and cheerful; there was such
an odorous bunch of dew-wet roses in a vase; such sweet scents, too,
came through the open window, and such country farm-house bounty spread
upon the breakfast-table, that Fred told his cousins after the meal that
he had never enjoyed anything before half so well in his life.
"Now, boys, what are you going to do to-day?" said Mr Inglis.
"Going fishing, Papa, in Trencher Pond," said Harry.
"Why, there's nothing there worth catching," said Mr Inglis.
"Oh _yes_, Papa!" said Phil. "It's full of sticklebacks, and such
beauties! Some are all gold and green and scarlet; the most beautiful
little creatures you ever saw, and it is so easy to catch them; and,
besides, it is so pretty there now."
"Oh, very well!" said their father; "only I've got leave for you to fish
in Lord Copsedale's lake next week."
"Hooray!" said Harry; "that's capital."
After breakfast Fred was all in a state of ferment to be off to Trencher
Pond. All was new to him, for he did not even know what a stickleback
might be, and he longed to see some of these gorgeous fellows that were
all over "gold and green and scarlet." They were not long in getting
equipped for their trip, for Harry soon produced three willow wands,
some twine, worms, and a tin can to hold the spoil; and, thus provided,
away they started, with the full understanding that their dinner would
be ready at one o'clock precisely.
They had only about a mile to walk down a green lane, and then to turn
off on the little common which contained the pond, but that mile took a
long time to get over, there was so much to do, to see, and to listen
to; there was the hole where the wasps had a nest to look at; there were
the nimble squirrels to watch as they darted across the road, and,
scampering up the trees, peeped down at the visitors to their domains.
Ah, how Fred longed to have one of the little bushy-tailed fellows, as
he watched their nimble tricks, scampering and leaping from bough to
bough as easily and fearlessly as a cat would upon the ground. Then
there were so many pretty wildflowers in the banks and hedge-rows; so
many birds to learn the names of, for they were all strangers to Fred,
who only knew sparrows--and they were different to the sparrows down
here at Hollowdell--and canaries and parrots. There was a
hedge-sparrow's nest, too, to peep at, with its tiny little blue eggs;
but not to touch, for, though Fred wanted to take it, Harry and Phil
said "No;" for Papa did not approve of the birds being disturbed. Then
there was a beautifully-formed mossy little cup-shaped nest in the fork
of a tree, just inside the coppice, smooth, round, and soft-edged, with
the horsehair and wool lining all plaited together, and made as even as
possible. It was so low down that, by bending the branch, the boys
could look at it, which they did, while the poor chaffinches, in the
horse-chestnut tree close by, cried "pink-pink-pink" in a state of the
greatest alarm lest their work should be destroyed; and the pretty cock
bird, with his crested head, pinky breast, and white-marked wings, burst
out into a loud and joyous song, short but sweet, as the three young
travellers journeyed on. And what a horse-chestnut tree that was all
one mass of pinky white blossoms, the tree itself one mighty green
pyramid of graceful leaves, and then, from top to bottom, hundreds and
hundreds of the blossom-spikes standing like little floral trees
themselves; while from every part of it came a continuous hum, as the
bees and other insects rifled the honeyed treasures and bore them away.
"Oh!" at last burst out Fred, in perfect rapture; "oh! don't I wish
Mamma and Papa were here! I never did know how beautiful the country
was."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed his cousins, each holding one of his hands; "come
along, that's nothing to what we are going to show you."
And away they raced through the gate, and across the little common to
the pond in the corner, where the golden furze-bushes hung over the
side.
Philip was right: it was a pretty pond. Such water--clear, bright, and
deep, with all kinds of water-plants growing therein; golden lilies,
silvery water buttercups, tall reeds, short thin rushes with their
little cottony tufts, taller ones with brown tassels; and stout
bulrushes, with their brown pokery seed-stems, growing tantalisingly out
of reach. Such silvery bright smooth water, with bright blue beetles
skimming about over the surface; and that skating spider that skims
about over water with his long legs as easily as if it were ice, without
giving a thought as to the possibility of sinking. Then down in the
clear depths where Fred was peering, every now and then boatman beetles
could be seen rowing about with their little pairs of oars, lying upon
their backs to make boats of themselves--curious little fellows that by
night come out of the water, and, opening a pair of cases, send out a
bright and beautiful pair of wings, and fly about through the air till
the morning.
"Oh! look at the little crocodiles!" cried Fred, to the intense delight
of his cousins, as the showily-dressed newts went sailing easily through
the clear water, with waving crests and lithe tails--such gay little
fellows, with orange throats; while swimming about in chase of one
another by myriads were the sticklebacks, of which the lads had come in
quest.
Darting about over the pond were hundreds of dragon-flies, thin-bodied
blue or green fellows, with bright transparent wings, that seemed
invisible at times, so rapid was their vibration; while every now and
then, rustling upon the wing as they dashed about in chase of one
another, came the larger dragon-flies, to make brighter the scene.
And now began the fishing--fishing without hooks; for the voracious
little sticklebacks seized the worm as soon as it was dropped into the
pond, sometimes two together, one at each end, so that the tin can the
boys had brought soon had several dozens of the fish inside. The first
to draw out a painted "tiddler" was Fred, and a gorgeous little fellow
it was, with a throat of the most brilliant scarlet, shaded off into
orange; while gold and green of the most dazzling lustres shone in the
sun.
"Mind his prickles!" cried Harry, by way of warning to Fred; but it was
too late, for poor Fred's fingers were already bleeding from the effects
of the spines with which the fish bristled.
Fred was in a high state of delight, and, novice though he was in
fishing, he succeeded in pulling out nearly as many as his cousins.
Both he and Philip fished by means of tying a piece of twine round the
middle of a worm, and letting the ends dangle down; but Harry had
brought a float and line, and secured his worm by hooking one end of it.
The sport grew fast and furious, and might have been continued for any
length of time, but for a sudden alarm that was raised respecting worms,
for Harry had just abstracted the last unfortunate wriggler from the tin
box.
"Never mind," said Philip, "I'll soon find some more;" and he directly
set to work, pulling up tufts of grass and kicking down pieces of the
bank wherever it looked at all damp; but all in vain, not a worm could
he find; and he was just about giving up his task in despair, when a
shout from Harry took his attention.
"Here, come here!" said Harry, "I've got such a thumper."
Fred and Philip both ran up to him, and sure enough he seemed to have
got hold of a "thumper," as he called it, for his line was running about
backwards and forwards through the water, while the willow wand which
served him for a rod was bent half double.
"Pull him to the side, and I'll get hold of the line," said Philip.
"But he won't come," said Harry, trying to play his fish to the bank,
but without success, for just then it made a dart right out towards the
middle of the pond. Harry's wand bent more and more, and, just as the
greatest strain occurred, the line divided about two feet above the
float, the wand gave a smart rebound, and poor Harry, the picture of
disappointment, stood with a short piece of line waving about at the end
of his stick, gazing woefully after his lost fish.
"Oh--oh--oh--h--h!" groaned Philip and Fred together, "what a pity!"
Harry continued to look most rueful, but said nothing.
"It must have been a jack," said Philip. "What a big one! Why didn't
you pull it out when I told you?"
"How could I," said Harry, "when it was dragging so?"
"I _am_ sorry," said Fred; "it _must_ have been a great stickleback to
pull the line in half."
"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed the cousins, "it wasn't a stickler. They never
grow any bigger than these."
"Look! look!" said Fred, pointing to something that was bobbing up and
down in the pond, "there's Harry's floater."
"So there is," said Harry; "perhaps it will come in close enough to get
hold of."
But, instead of coming in any closer, the little coloured cork kept
working away towards a deep, dark-looking part, right under a large
beech-tree, whose arms hung over that portion of the pond.
"Get up the tree, Hal," said Philip, "and creep along that bough.
You'll get it then."
"No, don't," said Fred, "you'll fall in; I'm sure you will. Don't, pray
don't," he continued, as Harry ran towards the tree.
"I shan't fall," said Harry; "don't you be a goose. I've climbed harder
trees than that, haven't I, Phil?"
"I should think so," said Philip; "but don't go too far, Hal, so as to
get in, for it's ever so deep there!"
"All right," said Harry; "give me a bump up."
Philip laid hold of his brother's leg, and gave him a lift just as he
grasped the tree with both arms, and then, taking advantage of the
inequalities of the bark with his boots, Harry managed to climb slowly
and laboriously to where the tree forked, and the branch reached forth
from the parent stem over the deep pool, while Fred stood half aghast at
what seemed to him the most daring act he ever beheld.
"Oh! take care," he exclaimed, looking quite pale, while the palms of
his hands grew moist and hot with excitement.
"I'm all right," said Harry, creeping slowly out upon the branch; and
then, seating himself astride, he began to work himself out over the
water, while the bough quivered and bent at every movement. "Can you
see it, Phil?" said the adventurer. "Just under the bough, now, and
coming nearer. It's gone!" he exclaimed, in dismay, as the float sank
down out of sight. "But keep on, Harry; perhaps it will come up again."
Harry kept on till he was about twenty feet away from the trunk of the
tree, and about three feet from the surface of the water, and then sat
watching where Philip threw a stone at the place where the float
disappeared. He could see some distance down into the black-looking
water, which report said was here ten feet deep; there were weeds and
dead branches sticking up here and there, but no float, and no fish.
"It's of no use; do come back," said Fred, "or I know you will fall."
"Whoof!" said Harry, giving himself a kind of jump, so that the bough
swung up and down, and his feet dipped the water, while his head nearly
rose to the branch above him. "Here's such a jolly ride; come and have
a turn, boys."
"Pray don't," said Fred, "I know you'll fall." And then--but not in
obedience to Fred's request--Harry became motionless; for just beneath
his feet he saw, rising from the depth of the pond, the white top of his
float. Fred gave a half shriek at what he saw, for to him it seemed a
feat of unsurpassed daring, as Harry clasped the bough with his legs,
and swinging himself head downwards, he plunged his hands into the water
and grasped his truant line.
There was a moment's struggle, for the fish was still at the end, but it
was beaten: and the effort of keeping the cork-float down so long, and
its previous struggles, made it an easy prey. Tightly twisting the line
round his finger, Harry swung himself up again, and began carefully to
make the retrograde journey after the manner of a sloth, with his back
downwards, and arms and legs clasping the bough. The small twigs and
branches made this no easy task, but, to the great delight and
admiration of Fred, he soon reached the tree, where he passed the line
to Philip, who was elevated in his turn by Fred, till he could reach
Harry's extended hand.
"Now you won't pull him out till I come down," said Harry.
"Oh, no," said Philip.
"Honour bright," said Harry.
"Honour bright," said Philip.
Then, and only then, did the climber loose his hold of the line and
proceed to make his descent. He contrived to get into the fork of the
tree, and then let himself down until he hung by his hands, and tried to
clasp the trunk with his legs, but somehow or other the tree seemed to
keep gliding away from him, and the more he tried the more tired he
grew, till at last his hands slipped, and down he came upon the ground
in a sitting position.
Happily, the distance was only small, and there was too much excitement
awaiting him for Harry to spare time for anything more than a terrible
grimace.
"Now, then," he said, taking hold of the line and drawing it gently,
"look out, boys," and then, with his beautiful golden scales glittering
in the sun, and his strength completely gone, a carp of about a pound
and a half weight rose to the surface, and, turning on his side, was
drawn inshore.
"Now hold the line, and I'll land him," said Harry to his brother, who
took his post while the speaker went down upon his knees to grasp the
fish.
"Flip, flap, plish, plash," went the carp, when Harry's hand came in
contact with its shiny sides.
"Oh!" groaned all the boys, "he's gone;" for the fish was free from the
line, the hook having, broken out of his mouth.
But he was not quite gone, for he lay in a shallow on some weeds, feebly
opening and shutting his gills. The next flap of his tail, however,
would have taken him into deep water, but in went Harry into the mud up
to his knees, and with one scoop of his hand sent the golden treasure
flying out on to the grass, yards away from the pond edge.
Didn't they cheer, and didn't Harry dance about, on the grass with his
black muddy legs dripping about, and the water going "suck, suck," in
his boots, and squeezing out at every step. How they gloated over the
poor panting prize; so much, that it was ever so long before they could
stop to rub Harry's legs down with bunches of grass; and it was no easy
matter for Fred and Philip to do, for the wet boy kept dancing, and
cheering, and skipping about like a mad thing, slapping his brother's
back; and at last, when they were half finished--
"Bring the tiddlers along, and let's keep carpy alive," he shouted; and
running to the edge of the pond, soaked his handkerchief therein,
wrapped up the carp, and away they all ran homewards, to put the fish in
their little pond. Philip, who was carrying the can of little fish--
which had now become almost insignificant in the eyes of their captors--
kept splashing his legs at every step, till they were nearly as wet as
his brother's; while Fred, who bore the rods, had to stop more than once
to disentangle the lines from the overhanging branches as they went down
the lane.
At last they reached home, to find Mary carrying in the dinner, after
Mr Inglis had been waiting about an hour for the truants, and at last,
exhausted in patience, had ordered it in.
"Look! look! Papa, Mamma," shouted Harry, rushing in through the French
window; "look, here's a fish!"
"Soak, soak," went his boots as he went in.
"Take him outside," said his father to the two other boys, who were just
coming breathlessly in, only Fred was entangled by the rods crossing the
window. "Take him outside, the young rascal is spoiling the carpet with
his wet boots."
It was no use to think of dinner then, so Papa and Mamma both had to
come outside the window to see and admire the carp, and hear how it was
captured, before the mid-day meal could be gone on with.
"Ah!" said the Squire at last, "there used to be plenty of fine carp in
Trencher Pond down the deep hole under the tree, but I did not know
there were any left, for the dry summers killed them when the railway
cutting was made and took off so much water. But come, boys, dinner."
And then he drove them off, and made them enter the hall-door so as to
make themselves fit for the repast that awaited them. But he was not
quite successful, for Harry made a double, and ran off to pop his carp
in the pond, but was back directly, and shortly after in the
dining-room, feasting away with a country boy's appetite--an appetite,
too, that Fred already began to show symptoms of possessing, as the
fruit of his visit to Hollowdell.