Fred's first act the next morning on waking, which he did before six,
was to jump out of bed and ran to the window. It was dull, certainly,
and a great heavy mist was rising from the soaked earth; but the ram had
ceased, and there were hopes that it might turn out a fine day. Having
satisfied himself upon this point, he went on tiptoe to his cousins'
room, where the lads were in their beds, one on each side of the window,
fast asleep, and looking as though they would not wake up for another
hour.
Fred was so proud of his achievement in being up first that he stood for
a moment considering what he should do, when, pulling a piece of string
from his pocket, he wetted it in the jug, and, twisting up one end,
proceeded to tickle Harry's nose with the soft point. Harry gave a
vicious rub at the irritated organ, and then another, and another, but
without opening his eyes. Fred then drew the string gently over eyes,
cheeks, and forehead, making the tormented boy twist and turn in his
bed, muttering something about "bothering flies." The next place of
attack was the ear, which was directly protected by the insertion of one
of Harry's fingers; so that Fred was obliged to return to the nose
again, all the time hardly driven to keep from laughing aloud; and this
time he titillated the poor fellow so unmercifully that he burst out
with a violent sneeze, and sitting up in bed was face to face with his
tormentor.
"Er-tchishew, er-tchishew!" said Harry, bouncing out of bed with his
pillow in his hand. "Phil! Phil!" he shouted, "here's a trespasser."
Philip jumped up and followed his brother's example, and between the two
poor Fred got so bolstered, or rather pillowed, that he was fain to cry
out for mercy, just as a sharp rapping at the wall told the boys that
they had disturbed the Squire.
Directly after breakfast the lads started to go to the mill, which was
the property of Mr Inglis, but held by one of his tenants, Mr Pollard.
"Oh! he has got such a rum fellow there for a man," said Harry; "we call
him Dusty Bob; but he's such a good chap, and will tell you all sorts of
tales about catching fish in mills; for he's always lived in watermills
ever since he was a boy. But his proper name's Peagrim."
The anxiety to see the "rum fellow"--Dusty Bob--made the boys hurry on,
but there were again so many attractions by the wayside that stoppages
were very frequent. The sandy roads had soaked up all the rain, but on
every leaf and spray heavy dew-drops were hanging and glittering in the
morning sun; while the birds were singing as though to make up for lost
time. The road wound, along by the old mossy palings which bounded Mr
Inglis's property, and the grove on the other side seemed to be the
special resort of all the sweetest warblers in that part of the country.
On every sunny bit of paling the flies were buzzing and humming;
beetles and little sun-shiners were crawling about; while great
variegated spiders were mending their nets, ready for the trade they
hoped to do in flies on that bright July day.
Such a scent came up from the freshened earth; and bright and golden
green looked every leaf, washed clear of the dust that had rested upon
it a day or two before; while the hedge-side flowers, although nodding
with the watery weight they bore, had turned their opening petals to the
sun, and seemed to laugh out their welcome to his warm bright beams.
"There goes a peacock-eye," said Philip, dashing after a lovely
butterfly, which kept on gently just before him for a time, and then
settled nicely in reach upon a robin-run-rake by the hedge-side. Philip
stole cautiously forward, cap in hand, and then made a dab down to
secure the brightly-painted prize; but, with one or two flaps from those
gorgeous wings, it was out of reach, over the palings, and away across
the buttercup-gilded meadow on the other side.
Directly after, Harry was off after a great sulphur-coloured butterfly,
which led him a long chase down the lane--Fred joining in at first, but
afterwards taking up a chase on his own account after a large blue
dragon fly. The butterflies would not be caught that morning, but the
chase had one good effect, for it led the lads down to the banks of the
little river, now very full and muddy in its waters, which were rushing
along with great haste, and evidently in a hurry to get down to the
mill, and go tumbling and foaming over the muddy sluice at the head of
the waste-water. The tops of the reeds were nearly covered, and in some
places the water was out over the road; while down where the foot-plank
crossed the wide ditch that brought down the waters from Beaker Hill to
empty into the river, the water had risen so that it touched the board,
and supplied capital amusement to Harry, who danced in the middle of it,
sending the water flashing and splashing about in all directions, and
wetting everything around but himself.
At last he grew tired, and Philip crossed too, but Fred hardly dared
venture, for the board was muddy and slippery, and at last Harry had to
come back and half lead him over; but it was a new feat to him. And now
they reached the mill, which stood upon a little island right in the
river--an island that stretched up the stream right to a point, with a
stout post driven in to break the force of the river, which now seemed
quite angry at being divided, and rushed round on both sides, foaming
and roaring as though it was determined to carry island, mill, and
everything else away.
"Come along, Fred," said Harry; but Fred felt nervous; it was all new to
him, and he could hardly summon up courage to cross the frail bridge
over the foaming waters that rushed down the sluice, and formed a
cataract on the other side--the waters plunging down in a muddy torrent,
and then boiling up in the maddest way. But he grasped his cousin's
hand tightly, and, crossing the bridge, walked round the mill to the
other side. And now he could feel the whole place tremble and vibrate
as the water rushed under the dark arches to the mill wheels, which were
going swiftly round; while inside the tall wooden building, pair after
pair of stones were spinning round and round, turning the hard, firm
corn into white nutritious flour.
Philip led the way, and they entered the mill, where the warning bells
were ringing to give notice that the corn was flowing down rightly; and
the mill-hoppers kept on "ruttle, ruttle;" the water hissed, seethed,
and rushed under their feet; the millstones rumbled round and round; and
there on the top of the sacks, with which the place was half filled, sat
the two great white cats belonging to the miller, fast asleep; while in
a corner, upon a heap of empty corn bags, sat Dusty Bob himself, nodding
and nodding as though he meant to shake his head off.
"Hallo, Bob, hoy!" shouted Harry in a voice which was hardly heard above
the din in the mill.
"Hullo!" said Bob, gruffly, jumping up. "Oh, it's you, young masters,
is it? Well, I expect I've been asleep. I was up half the night, for
we were so busy, and had so much water."
"Here's our cousin from London; and Papa said we might bring him to see
the fish-traps; and he said you were to have that for showing us," said
Philip, pulling out a shilling from his pocket; which action made Bob's
eyes twinkle, and removed all sleepiness.
"Stop a minute, young genelmen," said he, going to a cupboard in a
corner, and taking out a black teapot--at least what should have been
black, but it was all over flour. "There," he said, "that's what I
always keeps there to drink when too much dust gets down my throat."
Saying which Bob took a long drink of cold tea out of the spout, and
then generously offered it to all the visitors, who declared that it was
such a little time since they had had breakfast that they would rather
not.
"More left for me then," said Bob; "and now for the fish-traps. I
opened them last night, but I forgot to look this morning; so you're
just right, my lads--just right. Shouldn't wonder if there was a whale
down in the big trap after all this water; should you, Master Harry,
eh?"
"None of your gammon, Bob. Think I don't know better than that? Why
don't you come and look at the traps?"
"'Cos I ain't in such a hurry as you are," replied Bob. "You'd like me
to run, wouldn't you, eh?"
"Do come, Bob," said Philip, putting in his appeal to the rough and
dusty object before him--an appeal not without its effect, for Bob gave
a very dusty smile; and then, reaching down a bunch of keys from a nail
in the wall, proceeded with one of them to open a door which led down a
dark flight of damp stairs to the under regions of the mill, where the
two great toothed wheels were swiftly revolving--dripping with water,
and looking horribly wet, slimy, and muddy; while between them, and on
each side, were what Harry had called the fish-traps: large contrivances
of strong laths about half an inch apart, forming very wide and deep
cages, down into which, in a torrent, the water rushed and passed
through--of course leaving therein everything in the shape of fish that
had been brought down by the swiftly speeding current.
At the first sight of the gloomy cellar-like place and the sound of the
rushing stream, mingled with the hollow cavernous plashing noise of the
water running from the wheels as they rose from out the deep well-like
chasms where they did their duty, Fred shrunk back and hardly liked to
descend; but, seeing how coolly and confidently his cousins went down,
he summoned up courage and followed, while Bob proceeded to inspect trap
number one.
"Well! that's a pretty go," said Bob; "shan't catch many fish that a
way, anyhow."
"Why, what's the matter?" said Harry, looking at the great wooden fish
cage.
"Matter!" said Bob; "why, some one's left the door open."
"I know who it was," said Harry, laughing, as he inspected the opening
at the bottom of the trap, through which everything that had entered
must have escaped. "I know who it was," said Harry, again.
"Who?" said Philip, innocently.
"Who? why, old Bob!"
"You _are_ right," said Bob, grinning. "I did leave it open, because
some one came in the mill, and then I had to go. Never mind, I couldn't
help forgetting to come down again, could I?"
On going to the next trap they found that the force of the water had
broken two of the bottom laths away, leaving room for any sized fish to
get out; but for all that there was a great black-backed slimy-looking
monster of an eel, nearly a yard long, gently gliding about over one
side of the cage, close to the hole.
"Now, Bob," said Harry, "here he is, such a stomper; get him out quick."
But Bob did not get him out quick, for upon the first touch of the
barred door, the eel gave a glide, went through the broken bottom of the
trap, and was gone.
"Oh--oh--oh!" chorused the boys, "what a pity!"
"Why didn't you be quicker, Bob?" said Harry, "I know I could have
caught him. How jolly tiresome! Do be careful next time."
"Why, wasn't I careful?" said Bob. "There ain't a slipperier thing
anywheres, than one of them big eels. There ain't no holding of them at
all when there are no holes in the bottom of the traps; and of course I
couldn't stop that un without any salt to put on his tail."
"Don't talk such stuff," said Philip; "we are not children, and you
don't think we believe all that rubbish about salt on tails, do you?"
Bob indulged in a long low chuckle, and then led the way to the last
trap under the mill, though there was one at the head of the waste-water
outside. It was very dark in the corner where they now went, but in
spite of the darkness the boys could see the silvery gleam of something
moving behind the bars, while Bob suddenly grinned out--
"Now then, young gents, here they are; but stop while I fetches a pail."
Bob went upon his errand, and slowly ascended the steps that led into
the mill, while the boys crept as close as possible to the trap, through
which the water was rushing swiftly. It was very evident that there
were several good-sized fish in; but while they looked, something seemed
to dart down from above, there was a great splashing and flapping about,
and then it grew pretty evident that a new-comer had joined the
prisoners--who had all commenced bobbing and flopping about, as though
to remonstrate against his arrival.
And now came Bob with a great pail, which he held under the sliding door
of the trap, telling Harry to pull it open. He did so, and into it
glided the pailful of different kinds of fish, while one monster of an
eel got half his body over the side and slipped out on to the damp
floor, where he began to wriggle and twist, evidently meaning to get
down one of the wheel channels. But Bob had seen one fine fellow slip
away that morning, and did not mean to lose this one; for he knew it
would be worth shillings to him, either to sell, or to send by his young
visitors up to Squire Inglis's; so at it he dashed, nearly upsetting the
pail as he hastily banged it down. And now began a regular battle, the
eel making for the water, and the eel-catcher keeping him away. It was
one of those monsters that are rarely caught by hook and line, but which
lie in the deep muddy holes of rivers, out of which places they mostly
sally when there is a flood.
Strong! it was as strong, Bob said, as a horse, and writhed and twisted
about so that he could not retain his grasp upon its slippery shiny
skin.
Twice he got it up in a corner, tight up against the brick wall, and
away it went again close to the water's edge and was nearly lost, but
for a lucky kick from Harry which saved it. No one else cared about
touching the monster, and at last it appeared as though the prize would
escape after all, for Bob was trying to retain it with one hand only--
the other appearing to be disabled in some way or another; but it was
not so, for Bob meant mischief, and his hand reappeared with his great
bread and cheese knife, which he opened with his teeth, and then, with
one great gash, nearly severed the unfortunate eel's head from his snaky
body.
"There!" said Bob, triumphantly; "that are the biggest eel I ever caught
in this here water. Why, he weighs six pound, I know he do. Shut the
door of that ere trap again, Master Harry, and there'll be some more
to-night, I know."
Saying this, Bob made a commotion in the pail by laying his great prize
on the top of the other captives, and then carried them all carefully up
into the mill, where the visitors proceeded to gloat over the spoil.
Two or three sacks were laid upon the mill floor, and then Bob emptied
the pail, and there they were, flapping, leaping, and writhing about;
such a collection of fish as would have made any angler glow and feel
proud to carry home. First there was the great eel--such a monster,
with body as thick as Bob's wrist: then there was a beautiful trout
about two pounds' weight; a little jack about half the size; about two
dozen of fine roach; and about thirty eels of all sizes--one so small,
that the wonder was that he had not got through the bars; and the
largest so big, that it would have almost passed for the big one's
brother; while all of them seemed to consider that it was their duty to
get off the sacks as soon as possible, and therefore wriggled and
twisted towards the edges, giving the boys plenty of occupation to turn
them back, which Fred did with a piece of stick, wisely keeping the
uncouth creatures at a distance.
"Now, what's to be done with them all?" said Bob.
"I should like to have the little jack to put in our pond," said Harry.
"Why, he'd kill all the roach," said Philip.
"So he would," said his brother; "but then he's a nicer-looking fellow
than any there."
"Well, I'll tell you what," said Bob, "we'll put the six biggest eels
and the trout into a basket, and you shall take 'em home--young jack and
all; and them tothers I shall send up into the village to sell."
This was considered to be a capital arrangement; and soon after, off the
boys started with their basket tied tightly down to keep the eels from
getting out during the journey. Fred declined to help carry on account
of the eels, so Harry and Philip took a handle each and swung it between
them--a nice easy way for them, but very uncomfortable for the poor
eels, for every now and then Master Harry would swing so hard that the
basket would make a complete revolution, twist Philip's wrist, and,
making him leave go, the basket would come down bump upon the gravel
path. On they went, however, till they came to the little plank bridge,
over which Fred tripped lightly; and stood on the other side, laughing,
out of the reach of any splashing that Harry might feel disposed to
favour him with.
The water had sunk a few inches lower during their visit to the mill;
and when Harry and Philip stood in the middle of the plank, which could
not of course be passed without having a splash, Harry began to spring
up and down, and the board being tolerably elastic, he and his brother
had a pretty good ride; but although there was double weight now upon
it, the plank would not touch the water.
"Try again, Phil," said Harry. And up and down went the brothers for a
minute, but still clear of the water.
"Come along, now," said Philip, "it's no use."
"One more try, and a good one," said Harry; and then they began again.
"Now," he continued, "both together. One: that was a good one. Two:
better still. Three: and a--"
"Snap."
Just as they gave the last spring, there was a sharp crack from the
plank; a shriek from all the boys simultaneously; and Harry and Philip
were struggling in the deep water, for the plank bridge had divided in
two just in the centre.
Fred ran to the edge, and, by kneeling down, managed to catch Philip's
hand, which was the only portion of him visible, as he was being swept
out of the broad ditch, which was running swiftly, into the river, for
fear and excitement had robbed him of his swimming powers; while Harry,
who could swim well, had given two or three strokes, and then, catching
the long grass, climbed out upon the opposite side. The next thing they
all did was to stand and stare at each other in blank amazement, from
which Harry was the first to recover, for he jumped about, shook himself
like a Newfoundland dog, and then said bluntly:--
"Don't you cry, Phil, we're quite wet enough. Never mind; Papa won't be
very cross if we go and tell him directly. I'm coming across now," and
in spite of the protestations of Philip and Fred, he got sloth fashion--
hanging hands and legs--upon the pole that had served as a hand rail to
the broken plank, and which maintained its own bearings, and in spite of
its bending beneath his weight, he shuffled across, and stood wet and
dripping beside his companions.
"Come on," said Harry, shaking himself again, and addressing the others,
who were still standing with long faces by the broken bridge: "let's
run; we shall soon be home, and nobody will meet us in Park Lane."
"But where's the basket?" exclaimed Fred.
"Oh!" cried Harry, aghast.
"Why, it's gone," said Fred, "and the fish can't get out, though they
are in the water."
Gone it was; there was not even a handle of the basket to be seen above
the water, though they looked long and anxiously up and down the river,
and everywhere that seemed impossible for it to have got to. But it was
gone, and no doubt the poor eels were drinking in their natural element
and twisting about in their little wicker prison; turning their
companions, the decapitated eel and the dead trout, over and over, and
up and down, in their efforts to escape.
At last the trio started off, but with anything but light hearts, for
their appearance was far from being as neat as when they set off in the
morning. Fred was all over flour, through kneeling in the mill and
lolling up against the sacks; while his cousins looked as wet, muddy,
and pitiable, as two unfortunate, half-drowned young monkeys could look.
The butterflies flitted before them and danced up and down in the sunny
air, displaying their gorgeous wings; the yellowhammer flew out from
amongst the nettles, and betrayed the place where his sober-hued little
mate was sitting upon her grassy nest; a stoat ran across the road with
a bird in his mouth, and disappeared in the bank unchased; the corncrake
sang his harsh song in the park, seemingly close beneath the pales; and
two squirrels ran along the road right in front of them, and then sat
down with their little bushy tails cocked up, watching the boys ever so
long before they darted up the beech-tree bole, and hid behind the great
branches. But it was of no use; there was no tempting the boys out of
their solid sombre moodiness; and on they tramped, fishless and
disconsolate, for their young spirits were not damped, but literally
drenched; and then, too, they had lost their wicker idol, full of
captives--captives which, like those of the ancient Britons, were to
have been roasted; but now, alas! were in danger of being drowned; if,
as old anglers tell us, fish can be drowned.
The day was brighter than ever, but for them it had lost its brightness;
and sadly and slowly they crossed the stile, crept across the
home-field, round to the stable-yard, and in by the back door; and, no
one seeing them, hurried up to their bedrooms, so that Harry and Philip
were able to make a decent appearance at dinner-time, without
frightening Mr and Mrs Inglis by their half-drowned aspect.
It took a long time before it came to the surface, and a great amount of
determination before Harry could speak out respecting the morning's
mishap; for he, though the younger, was always the chief speaker; but at
last out it came with a rush, while Papa was helping the pudding, making
him give such a start that he put the wedge-shaped piece of rhubarb
pudding right upon the snowy white tablecloth instead of Fred's plate.
"I say, Papa, Philip and I tumbled into Whaley Dyke, coming home from
the mill to-day; and it was so full that Phil would have been drowned,
for he was too much afraid to swim, only Fred pulled him out."
And then, as the ice was broken, Harry told the whole tale, not omitting
the loss of the basket; and, though both Papa and Mamma looked serious
as they thought of the danger their boys had run, yet, as Harry had
prophesied, Papa was not very cross about it; and, after a little
serious admonition, shook hands with them all round, and said how proud
he was to think he could always trust his boys to tell the truth, for
now he could always have confidence in their word, and feel that he
could depend upon them in everything.
"But, papa," said Harry at last, breaking out into a regular whimper,
"they were _such_ eels!"
"And _such_ a trout!" said Philip. "And _such_ a jack!" said Fred.
"And they've all gone back to the river again," said Harry; "and I did
want the jack for the little pond, and old Bob will be sure to come up
to-night to see if you will give him something for the eels, and we
didn't get them."
"Never mind, boys," said Mr Inglis; "I dare say we can make it all
right with Bob, the miller; and no doubt there are as fine eels in the
river as ever came out of it."
As for Mrs Inglis, she seemed to take a more loving fancy to Fred than
she had before accorded to her sister's child; for had he not saved her
boy's life?
Sure enough, Bob came down to the house that very evening, grinning and
smirking, and looking as pleasant as if he felt sure that he was going
to have some of the squire's home-brewed ale, and half-a-crown as well.
But Bob grinned a little more than he would have done in general upon
such an occasion; and when he caught sight of the boys he kept grinning
more than ever, and beckoning them in his uncouth way to come to him;
but Harry and Philip did not feel much disposed to go to Bob, for there
was all the dissatisfaction of the loss of the fish, and they did not
like Bob being paid for what they did not profit by. But at last Bob's
demonstrations were so violent that the three boys went into the kitchen
together, and then and there the dusty old rascal drew from behind him,
all the while grinning and showing his teeth more than ever, the very
basket they had lost, tied-up as though it had never been opened, and
with all the fish inside.
Fred looked upon Bob as though he was a mighty conjurer.
"Why, they came down the stream to the mill," said Harry, beaming with
his discovery. "So they did, Master Harry; you're right."
"And you found them up against the grating?"
"So I did, Master Harry; I did find 'em there."
"And then you brought them here?"
"So I did, Master Harry; you're right, I did."
"Oh! hooray!" shouted Harry. "Hooray!" shouted Phil.
"Hurray!" said Fred, hardly knowing why, but cheering because the others
did. And then out came the Squire, and out came Mrs Inglis, and out
came the eels, and out came the praises, and out came Bob's half-crown;
and the next day when those fish were cooked, the Squire declared that
this was the best trout he had ever tasted; and as to the eels, why they
were the richest, nicest, and best eels that were ever eaten, and no one
enjoyed them better than the boys who had had so much difficulty in
gaining them for a prize.