"Yes, father; Josh and I went up to take Mr Manners some flies, and James was in the garden digging; but, as soon as he saw me, he slipped away round by the back, and went off into the woods. Josh said that he shied at me."

"But you, my boy? You didn't show any resentment for his behaviour to you?"

"I? Oh, no: not I, father; I didn't mind. I knew he was in a temper.

I should have gone and shaken hands with him if he had stopped."

"Quite right, my boy. He'll be better soon, and come back, like the true, honest fellow he is, and ask to be taken on."

"But what about his threats, father?"

"Pooh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Mr Willows. "Mr Manners was right."

One afternoon Josh came down as usual from the Vicarage, rod in hand.

"What about fishing, Will?" he said. "There's a lot of fly out on the upper waters. Get your rod, and let's rout out old RA, and see if we can't show him some better sport than we had the other evening."

"Ah, yes," said Will. "I believe he thought we took him where there wasn't a fish, just to play him a trick."

"Yes, that comes of getting a bad character," said Josh. "He'll be treating us like the shepherds did the boy in the fable who cried 'wolf!'"

"Oh, bother! There were plenty of fish up there, only they had been having a good feed, and wouldn't rise."

The boy hurried off to where his long, limber, trout rod was resting on three hooks, all ready with winch, taper line, and cast, under the eaves of the mill-shed nearest to the water.

"What flies are you going to try?" said Josh.

"Oh, black gnats."

"No, I wouldn't," said Josh. "Red spinner is the one for to-night."

"Ah, to be sure! Have you got any?"

"Have you?"

"Not one; but you have, or else you would not have proposed them."

"Come on; but I say, doesn't it look black!" said Josh.

"Yes, we shall have some rain to-night, I think," said Will; "and if it does come down and Bad Manners gets wet, he'll think it another trick!"

The boys shouldered their rods, and went up upon the dam, whose waters looked deep and dark, and smooth as gla.s.s, save where here and there a big trout quietly sucked down some unfortunate fly, forming ever-expanding rings on the mirror-like surface.

"My! There's a whopper!" cried Josh, as the fish broke the surface with a loud smack.

"What are you going to do?" cried Will.

"Do? Why, have a few throws; they are rising splendidly."

"More reason why we should fetch old Manners."

"All right," said Josh, securing his fly again to one of the lower rings of his rod, shouldering it, and following his companion along the ascending path leading to the cottage.

They had pa.s.sed along the second of the zig-zags when, at the third turn, they came suddenly upon Drinkwater standing in the shade of a drooping birch, gazing intently down upon the mill.

The boys were close upon him before he heard their steps, and then, starting violently, he wrenched himself round, leaped actively upon a heap of stones at his side, seized one of the hanging boughs, dragged himself up, and dived at once into the dense undergrowth, disappearing with a loud rustling amongst the bracken.

"All right, old chap!" said Will, cavalierly, "just as you like! But you are fifty, and I wouldn't behave like a sulky boy."

"Oh, take no notice," said Josh. "Father says that he is sure to come round."

"Not going to," said Will. "Come along."

Ten minutes later they reached the cottage gate, to find Drinkwater's sad-looking, patient-faced wife looking anxiously over the hedge.

"How are you, Mrs Waters?" cried Will, cheerily. "We haven't come for tea this time. We are going to catch some trout--a good creelful--for you to cook."

"I hope you will, my dears," said the woman, gently. "Mr Manners was sadly disappointed the other night. He said he thought that you had played him another trick."

"There, what did I say?" cried Will. "Is he in his room?"

"No, my dears; he's painting down by the birches, below the cave."

"All right," cried Will. "Look here; I'll take his rod and basket."

The creel was hanging from a nail beneath the cottage porch, and the rod stood up like a tall reed with its spear stuck in one of the garden beds; and, quite at home, Will took them from their resting-places, swung the creel strap across his back, laid the rod alongside his own over his shoulder, and then walked sharply on along familiar paths, with a booming noise growing louder and louder as they progressed, till at one of the turns of the stream they came full in sight of the great fall where the water was thundering down into the rocky hollow it had carved, and a faint mist of spray rose to moisten the overhanging ferns.

"Big mushroom, Josh!" cried Will, pointing to the great, open umbrella.

"What shall we do? Say we are coming with a stone?"

"No, no," said Josh; "no larks now."

"Well, I could hit it like a shot," said Will, picking up a rounded pebble.

"Why, so could I, if you come to that," said Josh.

"Not you! Come, let's try."

"No, no; I don't want to tease him. Let's get him on to fish."

"You couldn't hit it," said Will.

"All right; think so if you like," said Josh, and Will sent his stone flying with a tremendous jerk right away into the trees beyond the stream.

"Coo-ee!" he shouted. "Mr RA! Ahoy!"

"Don't!" cried Josh.

"Why?"