"I went about a mile upstream. There's a splendid place for fishing there. The creek widens, and there's a still, deep pool, something like the pool at the place you call Anglers' Bend, only I think mine is deeper and stiller, and fishier! At all events, I have never failed to get fish there.

"I fished from the bank for a while, with not very good luck. At all events, it occurred to me that I could better it if I went out upon a big log that lay right across the creek--a tremendous tree it must have been, judging by the size of the trunk. You could almost ride across it, it's so wide--if you had a circus pony, that is," added the Hermit with a twinkle.

"So I gathered up my tackle, hung the fish I'd caught across a bough in the shade, and went out on the log, and here I had good luck at once.

The fish bit just as soon as I put the bait into the water, and though a good many of them were small there were some very decent-sized ones amongst them. I threw the little chaps back, on the principle that--

Baby fish you throw away Will make good sport another day,

and at last began to think I had caught nearly enough, even though I intended to salt some. However, just as I thought it was time to strike for camp, I had a tremendous bite. It nearly jerked the rod out of my hands!

"'Hallo!' I said to myself, 'here's a whale!' I played him for a bit, for he was the strongest fish I ever had on a line in this country, and at last he began to tire, and I reeled the line in. It seemed quite a long time before I caught a glimpse of his lordship--a tremendous perch.

I tell you I felt quite proud as his head came up out of the water.

"He was nearly up to the log, when he made a sudden, last leap in the air, and the quickness of it and his weight half threw me off my balance. I made a hurried step on the log, and my right foot slipped into a huge, gaping crack. It was only after I had made two or three ineffectual struggles to release it that I found I was stuck.

"Well I didn't realize the seriousness of the position for a few minutes," the Hermit went on. "I could understand that I was wedged, but I certainly never dreamed that I could not, by dint of manoeuvring, wriggle my foot out of the crack. So I turned my attention to my big fish, and--standing in a most uncomfortable position--managed to land him; and a beauty he was, handsome as paint, with queer markings on his sides. I put him down carefully, and then tried to free myself.

"And I tried--and tried--and tried--until I was tired out, and stiff and hopeless. By that time it was nearly dark. After I had endeavoured unsuccessfully to get the boot clear, I unlaced it, and tried to get my foot out of it--but I was in a trifle too far for that, and try as I would I could not get it free. The crack was rather on the side of the log. I could not get a straight pull. Hurt? Yes, of course it hurt--not more from the pinching of the log, which you may try any time by s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g your foot up in a vice, than from my own wild efforts to get clear. My foot and ankle were stiff and sore from my exertions long before I knocked off in despair. I might have tried to cut the wood away, had I not left my knife on the bank, where I was fishing first. I don't know that it would have done much good, anyhow.

"Well, I looked at the situation--in fact, I had been looking at it all the time. It wasn't a very cheering prospect, either. The more I pondered over it, the less chance I saw of getting free. I had done all I could towards that end; now it only remained to wait for something to 'turn up.' And I was quite aware that nothing was in the least likely to turn up, and also that in all probability I would wear out some time before the log did.

"Night came on, and I was as hungry as a hunter--being a hunter, I knew just how hungry that is. I hadn't anything to eat except raw fish, and I wasn't quite equal to that yet. I had only one pipe of tobacco too, and you may be sure I made the most of that, I smoked it very, very slowly, and I wouldn't like to say how long it lasted.

"From time to time I made fresh attempts to release my foot--all unavailing, and all the more maddening because I could feel that my foot wasn't much caught--only just enough to hold it. But enough is as good as a feast! I felt that if I could get a straight pull at it I might get it out, and several times I nearly went head first into the water, overbalancing myself in the effort to get that straight pull. That wasn't a pleasant sensation--not so bad, indeed, if one had got as far as the water. But I pictured myself hanging from the log with a dislocated ankle, and the prospect was not inviting.

"So the night crept on. I grew deadly sleepy, but of course I did not care to let myself go to sleep; but worse than that was the stiffness, and the cramp that tortured the imprisoned leg. You know how you want to jump when you've got cramp? Well, I wanted to jump at intervals of about a minute all through that night, and instead, I was more securely hobbled than any old horse I ever saw. The mosquitoes worried me too.

Altogether it was not the sort of entertainment you would select from choice!

"And then, just as day began to dawn, the sleepiness got the better of me. I fought it unavailingly; but at last I knew I could keep awake no longer, and I shut my eyes.

"I don't know how long I slept--it couldn't have been for any time, for it was not broad daylight when I opened my eyes again. Besides, the circ.u.mstances weren't the kind to induce calm and peaceful slumber.

"I woke up with a start, and in my dreams I seemed to hear myself crying out with pain--for a spasm of cramp had seized me, and it was like a red-hot iron thrust up my leg. I was only half awake--not realizing my position a bit. I made a sudden spring, and the next moment off I went, headlong!

"I don't suppose," said the Hermit reflectively, poking a stem of gra.s.s down his pipe, "that I'll ever lose the memory of the sudden, abject terror of that moment. They say 'as easy as falling off a log,' and it certainly doesn't take an able-bodied man long to fall off one, as a rule; but it seemed to me that I was hours and years waiting for the jerk to come on my imprisoned foot. I'm sure I lived through half a lifetime before it really came.

"Then it came--and I hardly felt it! There was just a sudden pull--scarcely enough to hurt very much, and the old boot yielded. Sole from upper, it came clean away, and the pressure on my foot alone wasn't enough to hold me. It was so unexpected that I didn't realize I was free until I struck the water, and went down right into the mud at the bottom of the creek.

"That woke me up, I can a.s.sure you. I came up choking and spluttering, and blinded with the mud--I wouldn't like to tell you for a moment that it was pleasant, but I can truthfully say I never was more relieved in my life. I struck out for the bank, and got out of the water, and then sat down on the gra.s.s and wondered why on earth I hadn't made up my mind to jump off that log before.

"I hadn't any boot left--the remainder had been kicked off as I swam ash.o.r.e. I made my way along the log that had held me so fast all night, and there, wedged as tight as ever in the crack, was my old sole! It's there still--unless the mosquitoes have eaten it. I limped home with my fish, cleaned them, had a meal and went to bed--and I didn't get up until next day, either!

"And so, Mr. Wally, I venture to think that it was my boot that you landed this morning," the Hermit said gravely. "I don't grudge it to you; I can't say I ever wish to see it again. You"--magnanimously--"may have it for your very own!"

"But I chucked it back again!" blurted out Wally, amidst a roar of laughter from Jim and Harry at his dismayed face.

"I forgive you!" said the Hermit, joining in the laugh. "I admit it was a relic which didn't advertise its own fame."

"I guess you'd never want to see it again," Jim said. "That was a pretty narrow escape--if your foot had been in just a bit farther you might have been hanging from that old log now!"

"That was my own idea all that night," observed the Hermit; "and then Wally wouldn't have caught any more than the rest of you this morning!

And that reminds me, I promised to show you a good fishing-place. Don't you think, if you've had enough of my prosy yarning, that we'd better make a start?"

The party gathered itself up with alacrity from the gra.s.s. Lines were hurriedly examined, and the bait tin, when investigated, proved to contain an ample supply of succulent grubs and other dainties calculated to tempt the most fastidious of fish.

"All ready?" said the Hermit.

"Hold on a minute," Jim said. "I'll let Billy know where we're going."

Billy was found fishing stolidly from a log. Three blackfish testified to his skill with the rod, at which Wally whistled disgustedly and Norah laughed.

"No good to be jealous of Billy's luck," she said. "He can always get fish, when n.o.body else can find even a nibble. Mrs. Brown says he's got the light hand like hers for pastry."

The Hermit laughed.

"I like Mrs. Brown's simile," he said. "If that was her pastry in those turnovers at lunch, Miss Norah, I certainly agree that she has 'the light hand.'"

"Mrs. Brown's like the cook in _The Ingoldsby Legends_, Dad says," Norah remarked.

"What," said the Hermit--

"For soups and stews, and French regouts, Nell Cook is famous still--?"

finished Norah delightedly. "However did you know, Mr. Hermit?"

The Hermit laughed, but a shade crossed his brow. "I used to read the _Legends_ with a dear old friend many years before you were born, Miss Norah," he said gravely. "I often wonder whether he still reads them."

"Ready?" Jim interrupted, springing up the bank. "Billy understands about feeding the ponies. Don't forget, mind, Billy."

"Plenty!" quoth Billy, and the party went on its way. The Hermit led them rapidly over logs and fallen trees, up and down gullies, and through tangles of thickly growing scrub. Once or twice it occurred to Jim that they were trusting very confidingly to this man, of whom they knew absolutely nothing; and a faint shade of uneasiness crossed his mind. He felt responsible, as the eldest of the youngsters, knowing that his father had placed him in charge, and that he was expected to exercise a certain amount of caution. Still it was hard to fancy anything wrong, looking at the Hermit's serene face, and the trusting way in which Norah's brown little hand was placed in his strong grasp.

The other boys were quite unconscious of any uncomfortable ideas, and Jim finally dismissed his fears as uncalled for.

"I thought," said the Hermit, suddenly turning, "of taking you to see my camp as we went, but on second thoughts I decided that it would be better to get straight to work, as you young people want some fish, I suppose, to take home. Perhaps we can look in at my camp as we come back. It's not far from here."

"Which way do you generally go to the river?" Norah asked.

"Why, anyway," the Hermit answered. "Generally in this direction. Why do you ask, Miss Norah?"

"I was wondering," Norah said. "We haven't crossed or met a single track."

The Hermit laughed.

"No," he said, "I take very good care not to leave tracks if I can avoid it. You see, I'm a solitary fellow, Miss Norah, and prefer, as a rule, to keep to myself. Apart from that, I often leave camp for the greater part of the day when I'm fishing or hunting, and I've no wish to point out the way to my domain to any wanderers. Not that I've much to lose, still there are some things. Picture my harrowed feelings were I to return some evening and find my beloved frying-pan gone!"

Norah laughed.

"It would be awful," she said.

"So I planned my camp very cunningly," continued the Hermit, "and I can tell you it took some planning to contrive it so that it shouldn't be too easily visible."