"What, down in the deep corner, under the trees?"

"Yes; it's ten foot deep there. You fish right on the bottom, in that corner, and you'll have some sport."

"Hallo!" cried Mercer, laughing. "I say, Burr, junior, hark at him.

How does he know? I say, Jem, how many eels have you caught there, eh?"

"You go and begin," said the man, with a dry laugh. "I won't forget about the basket."

"Nor I about the eels. Come on," cried Mercer. "Here, look sharp; let's run!"

He caught hold of my hand, raced me through the hop-garden, and out into the lane.

"Now, down here," he said, as we reached a stile. "We can get across this field, and then into the woods, and--quick, do as I do!"

As he spoke, he dropped down on his knees, and began hunting about at the bottom of the hedge, while I made clumsy efforts to do the same.

"What is it?" I said eagerly.

"Pretend it's a snake. Can't you see?"

"No."

"There's Eely Burr and old d.i.c.ksee coming down the lane, and they'll want to come too. Hist! don't look. Lie down; p'r'aps they haven't seen us, and they'll go by."

"But it's all stinging nettles," I said.

"What of that? Here, this way; they won't sting if you go down hard."

And, throwing himself into a great bed of the venomous weeds, he lay perfectly still, and I was obliged to follow suit, but not without suffering two or three stings.

CHAPTER FOUR.

DOWN BY THE PENSTOCK.

It seemed a long time before we heard anything, but at last there were steps and voices which soon became plain, and, to my surprise, I found that they were talking about me.

"Oh, he can't fight, d.i.c.ksy," said one voice, which I recognised as the tall boy's--my namesake. "Those London chaps are all talk and no do. I shall give him a licking first chance, just to tame him down, and then you'd better have a go at him."

"You think he can't fight, then?"

"Tchah! not he. You can lick him with one hand."

"Then I will," said d.i.c.ksee. "I wonder where he went."

"Off with that old Senna T-pot," said Burr major scornfully. "He's taken him with him to pick snails and frogs--an idiot! I hate that chap, d.i.c.ksy, he's a beast."

"Yes, that he is."

"You can't shake hands with him, because you never know what he's touched last. I think the Doctor ought to be more particular about the sort of boys he--mumble--hum--hum hum hum!"

The buzzing of a humble-bee, and then silence.

"Ck!"

"Eh?"

"Ck!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mercer, uttering a stifled laugh. "Oh, I say, what a game, and us hearing every word. Thinks the Doctor ought to be more particular what sort of boys he has in the school. I suppose that's meant for me. Well, my father is a gentleman, and could set his to make him a pair of trousers if he liked. Can't shake hands with me, can't he? Well, who wants him to? I wish I could fight, I'd make him smell my hands--my fists. He'd know then what they'd touched. But he can fight, and licked me horrid. Lie still yet, or they'll see us get up; I thought they were in the cricket-field. Tired, I suppose. Such a fuss about making your hands a bit dirty. Daresay I keep 'em as clean as he does his. I say, got stung?"

"A little," I said.

"Never mind; dock's the thing to cure that. All right. Gone. Now then, over the stile, and do as I do."

He crept over the stile, and into the field, and began to run down beside the hedge in a stooping position, while I followed suit, and we did not rise up till we gained the shelter of the trees.

"There we are! This is the beginning of the woods. Oh, it's such a place!"

"You've been before, then?" I said, as we began to wind in and out among large beech-trees, whose smooth grey trunks were spotted with creamy and green moss.

"Lots of times. I go everywhere when I can get away. It's a famous place here for moths. There's old Dame Durden again. This way--now down here; we shall soon be there."

I followed him for about a quarter of an hour through the dim, mossy glades of the grand old wood, till all at once it grew lighter, and we stepped out beside a broad sheet of water dotted with lilies and patches of rush and reed, while about fifty yards farther along the bank of the broad pool there was a roughly-thatched boat-house, with a mossy old punt moored to one of the posts by a rusty chain.

"Now, then, what do you think of this, eh?" said Mercer.

I looked round at the smooth sheet of water glistening in the bright sunshine, completely shut in by giant old trees whose great branches hung down over the sides and even dipped their ends and seemed to be repeated in the mirror-like surface. Here I could see silvery lily-blossoms, and there others of gold floating like cups amongst the broad round leaves, and, turning from the beautiful picture to my companion, I could only say two words:

"It's glorious!"

"I should think it is," he cried. "We two are going to have no end of fun together. You don't mind the other boys bullying you, and old Reb snarling and finding fault, and the Doctor boxing your ears with your books, when you've got places like this to come to. Hi! look at the old moorhen, there, with her young ones," and he pointed to a curious-looking bird swimming about and flicking its black and white tail, as it went in and out among the rushes growing in the water, with six little sooty-looking, downy young ones swimming after it. "Ever see one of them before?"

"No," I said. "There's another over there too."

"No, it isn't; that's a bald coot. It's got a white shield on the top of its head, and the moorhen's got a red one like sealing-wax. Hi! look at that!"

For all of a sudden there was a rush and splash close to the reeds, and the moorhen and five young ones went through the water with a dash to hide among the reeds.

"Know what that was?"

"They saw us, and were frightened. Or did some one throw a big stone?"

"There's no one to throw big stones here. That was Mr Jack."

"Well, did he throw stones?" I said wonderingly.

"No! What a fellow you are! A jack--a pike--a big fish--took one of the young moorhens for his dinner."

"Why, I thought pike lived on fish," I cried.