Josh and the Vicar were down at the mill in good time the next morning,
to find Will and his father in the bright sunshine under a cloudless
sky, on the bank overlooking the wide pool, and, just as they reached
them, with a hearty "Good-morning!" Manners came up.
Overhead, all was bright and clear, and, from Nature's newly washed
face, a fresh, sweet scent rose into the air; but the lower part of the
valley seemed quite transformed. Sluices and waterfalls were gushing
down everywhere, making for the main stream, which added to the general
roar of water as it rushed along, racing for the overcharged river far
away.
Every moment some fresh sign of the mischief which had been done by the
flood glided by. The stream was no longer crystal-like and clear, but
turgid with the soil swept from high up the banks; leaves, twigs, broken
branches, and even trees, mostly root upwards, went bobbing by, every
now and then to become anchored for a few moments amongst the stones,
and forming some little dam which kept the water back till there was
weight enough to overcome the obstacle and send it onwards with a rush.
"Well," cried Manners, in his bluff way, "how is it, Mr Willows? I
woke up this morning, looked out of the window, and then dressed in a
flurry, to hurry down, half expecting that the mill had been swept
away."
"I, too," said the Vicar, "felt a bit nervous; the storm was awful, and
I wondered whether such a weight of waters might not have made an
opening somewhere in your dam."
"Well, to be candid," said Mr Willows, "I woke long before daybreak and
came out with Will here to see how we stood. But we are all right. My
ancestors were simple men, but what they did they did with all their
hearts. It must have been very slow work year by year, the quarrying
and bringing down all these stones; but they planted them well, the lime
they burned was of the best, and it is harder now than the stone itself.
The dam has stood two hundred years, and it is so solid that it looks
as if it would stand two hundred more."
"Then we are all right," cried Manners, heartily.
"Yes, we are all right," said Mr Willows, smiling and holding out his
hand; "and this is nice and neighbourly of you, a stranger, Mr Manners,
to speak like this."
"Neighbourly?" said Manners, colouring through his well-tanned skin.
"Oh, I don't know about that. Only, you see, coming down year after
year, and seeing so much of the boys, one seems to know you all so
well."
"Exactly," said the Vicar, smiling; "Willows is quite right; it is
neighbourly, or we will say brotherly, if you like."
"No, no, no!" cried the artist. "Here, I'll tell you what to say--
nothing. But I am heartily glad there is no serious mischief done."
"None at all," said Willows. "Rather good. The big pool was getting
very low. Now we shall be all right for months. The water's falling
fast, and in half an hour I shall have the waste water-sluices closed,
and by mid-day the stream will be running much as usual."
"That's right," cried Manners. "I say, boys; lucky we had our fishing
last night. Why, every trout will have been washed down-stream and out
to sea."
"Not one," cried Will. "Will they, father?"
"No, my boy; I don't suppose they will; they'll have got into the eddies
and backwaters, driven down a good deal here and there; but their
natural habit is to make their way higher and higher up to the shallows
in search of food. There, Mr Manners, I don't think that you'll miss
any of your sport. My experience is that places which swarm with trout
one day are empty the next, and vacant spots where you have thrown a fly
in vain will another time give you a fish at nearly every cast."
"Well," said Manners, "as I have had my fright for nothing, my nature's
beginning to assert itself, and the main question now with me is
breakfast. Now, boys, will you come and join me? I can't smell them,
but I can almost venture to say for certain that Mrs Drinkwater is
frying trout. What do you say?"
"No, thank you, Mr Manners," replied Will; "my father will want me,
perhaps, to give orders to the men; but Josh has got to pass the
cottage."
"Of course," cried Manners; "and you might honour me too, Mr Carlile."
"Thanks, no," said the Vicar. "Josh can stay, and he will be glad.
I'll go on, for they would be waiting breakfast at home."
The artist gave a tug at a thick chain, and dragged out a heavy,
old-fashioned, gold watch.
"Five o'clock," he cried. "We should be done by six. Why, you'd be
quite ready for a second breakfast, sir, by eight or nine."
"Do come, father."
"Very well," said the Vicar, smiling; and the artist carried them off,
leaving Willows with his son to walk slowly on to the broad dam where
the foam-covered water brimmed the stones, as if only wanting the
impulse of a puff of wind to sweep over the top.
They stopped about the middle, to stand looking up the vale.
"I say, father, do you feel that?" cried Will.
"What?--the quivering sensation, my boy?"
"Yes; it is just as if the water was shaking the stones all loose."
"Yes, but it is only the vibration caused by the water rushing through
the open sluices on either side; they are open as wide as they will go,
and have just been large enough to do their work well and keep the flood
down. I fully expected to find it foaming over the top. What are you
looking at?"
"Don't take any notice, father. I'm going to look away. Just turn your
eyes quietly up to the old stone bench on the top there by the lookout."
There was a pause of a moment or two, during which the mill-owner
stooped to pick up a piece of sodden, dead wood, to throw it outward
into the current tearing through one of the open sluices. Then turning
right away, he said, quietly--
"Yes, there's someone's face looking over from the back. Who can it
be?"
"Can't you see, father?"
"No; unless it's James."
"It is, father; I saw his face just now quite clear. What does he want
there? Does he want to speak to you about coming back?"
"Hardly so soon as this, my boy," said Will's father, rather sadly.
"Brought here by curiosity, I suppose, like our other friends--a good
sign, Will. He takes an interest in the old mill, after all."