CHAPTER NINE.
A QUIET DAY WITH A STIRRING TERMINATION.
What fisher does not know the charm, the calm delight, of a quiet day bythe river-side, after, it may be, months of too much contact withsociety? On such an occasion a congenial comrade is an advantage, butunless the comrade be congenial, one is better alone.
This may sound selfish to some ears, but is it really so? When a manhas all but immolated himself for ten or eleven months, it may be, onthe altar of business, art, and social duty, is a tremendous thirst forNature and solitude altogether selfish? We think not. And evidentlyMacRummle thought not, as he wandered one soft, delightful morning, rodin hand, down to the river-side.
The river-side! There is something restfully suggestive in the verywords. The quiet pools, the gurgling deeps, the rushing rapids, therippling shallows, the little cascades--what ardent hopes, what wildsuggestions, what grand possibilities these have for the young; whatgentle excitations, what pleasant, even though sad, memories for theold!
Of course the non-fisher knows nothing of all this. His terrestrialjoys are limited, poor thing! The painter, indeed, has some part in thematter--as regards his own line, so to speak--and when he goes on whatis vulgarly termed his own hook. We have profound sympathy with thepainter. But for the poor fellow who neither fishes nor paints, alas!To be sure he may botanise. Strange to say, we had almost forgottenthat! and also geologise; but our concern at present is with fishers,or, rather, with that fishing enthusiast, MacRummle.
The sunshine of his face was second only to that of Nature. His visagebeamed with satisfaction; his eyes gleamed with hope, as he sat down onthe bank near to his first pool, and began to select flies.
We have probably given the impression that MacRummle was alone, but thisis not strictly correct. In his own estimation he was, indeed, inabsolute solitude, and, so far, his felicity was unbroken; but his stepshad been dogged that morning, and the dogger was Junkie.
That eccentric youngster possessed a mind which it is not easy toanalyse or describe. One strong element in it, however, was curiosity.Another was ambition. The blending of these two qualities producedwonder in Junkie--wonder that he, though as ardent a sportsman asMacRummle, should go forth frequently to fish and catch little ornothing, while the old gentleman went out and was wont to return withbaskets full to overflowing. There must be a secret of some sort. Hedid not like to ask what that secret was, so he made up his mind tofollow the old man and watch him--not of course with the slightestintention of doing anything sly or wrong, but secretly, because he waswell aware that MacRummle did not like to be distracted by company--especially _his_ company!
Following, then, at a respectful distance, and relying for success verymuch on the fisher's partial blindness and deafness, Junkie went out tohave a day of it. He even went so far, in the matter of forethought, asto provide himself with a massive slice of bread and cheese to sustainhim while carrying on his investigations.
Before he had got far from the house, however, he encountered Donald ofthe ragged head, who had hung about the place in hopes of anotherdeer-drive, and whom he styled "Tonal'," in semi-sarcastic imitation ofold Ian. Him he at once took into his confidence.
"I'll co wuth ye," said Donald.
"Come along, then. But mind, if you make a noise, or show yourself; ifyou so much as cough or sneeze, I'll punch your head an' tumble you intothe river."
"Fery coot," said Donald. And upon this clear understanding theyadvanced.
The other members of the company at the house, meanwhile, had scatteredin various directions to fish, shoot, paint or botanise, according tofancy.
We may explain here that there were several trouting streams in thevicinity of the house, besides the "river" at the head of the loch.Thus it was that MacRummle had a stream all to himself.
At first the fisher tried fly, to which he was partial, but success didnot attend his efforts. The water was not in the best condition forfly, being rather swollen by recent rains. Perseverance, however, wasone of MacRummle's strong qualities. He was not to be easily beaten.
There was a certain big boulder about the size of a dog-cart near themouth of the stream, which narrowed its bed considerably, and thusproduced a formation of rock below water favourable to the shelter offish. It also sent an oily ripple over the surface of the water, whichwas favourable to the operations of the fisher. The old gentlemanseldom failed to raise or hook a good sea-trout there, and always madehis first cast with eager expectation. But the fish were eitherobdurate or blind that morning. They could not or they would not see.With a slight, but by no means desponding, sigh, the old man changed hiscast and tried again. He knew every stone and ledge of the pool, andcast again and again with consummate skill and unusual care. Still,without result.
"That's odd," he muttered, for, being naturally a sociable man, he foundtalking to himself an immense relief. "Try once more, just at the tailo' yon swirl, Dick, my boy."
His Christian name was Richard. No one would have presumed to call himDick but himself.
No result following this appeal to the tail of the swirl, he sat down onthe bank and once more changed his hook. The nature of change mighthave been heard by the insects among the heather close by, if they werelistening, for Donald whispered to his companion,--"He's coin' to trypait!"
"Didn't I bid ye hau'd your tongue?"
"Ay."
"Do't then."
MacRummle dropped a worm gently into the head of the pool, and let it gowith the current. Instantly the line straightened, the rod bent, thereel spun, and from the other side of the pool there leaped a lovely barof silver, which fell back to its native element with a considerablesplash.
"A two-pounder!" gasped Donald, unable to restrain his excitable spirit,as he half rose.
Junkie had him by the throat in a moment, and crammed his ragged headdown among the heather.
"Tonal'!" he whispered remonstratively.
"I forgot," whispered Donald, when the strong little hands relaxed."I'll not do't again."
"Ye better no'," returned Junkie, with a shake of his fist that requiredno explanation.
By this time the fish had darted like a lightning flash twice up stream,once down, three times across, and twice into the air. At the same timethe fisher had hurried up and down the bank, had tripped over two stumpsand a root, had dropped his wideawake, and had very nearly gone headforemost into the pool; for his tackle was fine and his fish large. Thefisher-boy gasped.
"Tonal'," said Junkie, in very low tones, "if ye don't behave better,I'll send ye away."
"It iss not easy, but I'll try," said he.
Donald could say no more. The best of men or boys could do no more thantry. We may as well say here at once, however, that his efforts atself-control were crowned with success. He proved himself to be a greatman in embryo by ruling his own spirit that day.
In a few minutes the trout was landed by means of a miniature gaff,which the fisher carried in his basket, for the purpose of securing fishthat were too heavy to be pulled out by the line. It was afterwardsfound to be a two-and-a-half pounder, which, being an unusually goodfish for that stream, was the occasion of much rejoicing on the part ofthe old gentleman, as he stood wiping his forehead and commenting on it.
"Capital! Not had such a fellow as that for more than a week. There'smore where that came from; but you must give the pool a rest, Dick. Trythe run higher up."
In obedience to his own orders, MacRummle went up to a part of thestream where a high cliff on one side and a steepish bank on the othercaused it to flow in a deep channel, not much more than a couple ofyards wide. At the head of the run was a ledge where fish wereinvariably captured. Towards this spot the old man hurried eagerly.
The two boys lay still in the heather, allowed him to pass, and thensoftly followed, bending low, and keeping as much as possible behindbushes and in hollows, until they were again close upon him. Ensconcingthemselves in a convenient mass of heather
, they raised their heads andsaw the fisher stepping carefully from rock to rock, as he approachedthe run.
Rounded boulders, large or small, are never safe to walk on, even forthe young and active. MacRummle found it so. His foot slipped, and hesat down, with undignified haste, in a small pool of water.
Down went the boys' heads, that they might explode their laughter assoftly as possible among the roots of the heather.
"Wass it not funny?" whispered Donald.
"I hope he's not hurt," replied Junkie, raising his head cautiously.
He saw that MacRummle had risen, and, with a rueful expression of face,was making insane and futile efforts to look at himself behind. Abeaming smile overspread the boy's face as he glanced at his companion,for he knew well that the old gentleman cared little or nothing forwater. And this was obviously the case, for, after squeezing as muchwater out of his nether garments as chose to come, he proceeded to thehead of the runs and resumed fishing.
"I'm beginnin' to see through't," murmured Junkie, after watching forsome time. "See! he has hooked another. Ye see, Tonal', it must belettin' the hook drift away down under the ledges that does it. Look!He's got 'im!"
"I'm thinking ye are right, Junkie. An' the creat thing to know isswhere the ledges lie. He keeps well back from the watter also. Theremaun be somethin' in that, what-e-ver. Ye wull be tryin' it yoursel'the morn, maype."
To this Junkie vouchsafed no reply, for the fisher, having secured hisfish, was proceeding further up stream. When he was sufficiently far inadvance, the boys rose to their feet, and again followed him.
Thus the trio occupied themselves all the forenoon--MacRummle graduallyfilling his basket with fine sea-trout, Junkie storing his inquisitivemind with piscatorial knowledge and "dodges," and Donald enjoyinghimself in the mere act of wallowing about in heather and sunshine.
About noon MacRummle suddenly ceased to gaze intently on the water, andplaced his hand upon his waistcoat.
"Time, Dick?" he murmured, pulling out his watch. "I knew it. Commendme to nature. It's the best time-keeper, after all--needs noregulating."
He was wrong, as was frequently the case, but it mattered little, forthere was no one to contradict him.
"Let me see," he muttered, taking off his basket, and drawing anewspaper parcel from the pocket of his coat--in which operation he wasinduced by memory to make a last futile attempt to see himselfbehind--"what have they put up for me?"
The parcel, when opened, disclosed a tempting pile of meat sandwiches.The old gentleman spread them out on a flattish boulder, which served asan admirable table.
Having leaned his rod against a tree, he emptied the basket on a grassyspot, and arranged the silver bars in a row. Then he sat down on hisbasket beside the table, and gave himself up to food and contemplation.
"A goodly row," he muttered, as well as the ham sandwich would let him."Not a bad beginning; and such a splendid dish. There's comfort inthat, for I hate useless work of any kind. A sort of an illustration,this, of the fitness of things!"
Apparently the peculiar unfitness of simultaneous mastication and speechstruck him, for he paused a few moments, then continued,--"Yes, fitness.Supplies for the table absolutely needed. Healthy exercise aconsequence. Result, felicity!"
The supplies checking speech again, MacRummle looked around him, withbenignant good-will to man and beast expressed on his countenance.
Craning their necks over a bank, and seeing the old gentleman thuspleasantly engaged, the two boys sank into the heather, and disappearedfrom view as completely as did "Clan Alpine's warriors true," after theyhad been shown to Fitz James by Roderick Dhu. Like two sparrows in apurple nest they proceeded to enjoy themselves.
"Now, Tonal', we will grub," said Junkie. "Why, what's the matter withyou?" he asked, on observing a sudden fall in his companion'scountenance.
"The matter?" repeated the boy. "It iss the crub that's the matter, forI hev not a crumb with me."
"Now, isn't that awful?" said Junkie, with a hypocritically woeful look."We will just have to starve. But there's plenty of water," he added,in a consoling tone. "Here, Tonal', take this leather cup an' fill it.Ye can git down to the river by the back o' the bluff without bein'noticed. See that ye make no noise, now. Mind what I said to ye."
While Donald went at a slow, sad pace to fetch water, Junkie spread hishandkerchief on the ground, and on this tablecloth laid out thefollowing articles, which he took from a small bag that he had carried,slung on his shoulder,--a very large piece of loaf bread, a thick sliceof cheese, two hard biscuits, an apple, a bit of liquorice, a mass ofhome-made toffee, inseparably attached to a dirty bit of newspaper,three peppermint lozenges, and a gully knife with a broken blade.
When Donald returned and beheld this feast, he opened his eyes wide.Then, opening his mouth, he was on the point of giving vent to a cheer,when Junkie stopped him with a glance and an ominous shake of the fist.
It is to this day an undecided question which of those feasters enjoyedhimself most.
"I always bring with me more than I can eat, Tonal', so you're welcometo the half. `Fair play,' as daddy says, although he sometimes keepsthe fairest play to himself;" with which dutiful remark the urchinproceeded to divide the viands very justly.
It did not take long to consume the whole. But MacRummle was quickereven than they, possibly because he had enticing work still before him.The consequence was, that he had resumed his rod unnoticed by the boys,and in the process of his amusement, had reached that part of the bankon the top of which they lay concealed. Their devotion to lunch hadprevented his approach being perceived, and the first intimation theyhad of his near presence was the clatter of pebbles as he made a falsestep, and the swish of his flies above their heads as he made a cast.
The boys gazed at each other for one moment in silence, then hastilystuffed the remnant of their feast into their pockets.
Suddenly the glengarry bonnet of Junkie leaped mysteriously off hishead, and dropped on the heather behind him.
"Hanked again!" growled MacRummle from the river-bed below.
Every fisher knows the difficulty of casting a long line with a steepbank behind him. Once already the old gentleman had hanked on the banka little lower down, but so slightly that a twitch brought the fliesaway. Now, however, the hank was too complicated to give way to atwitch, for the glengarry held hard on to the heather. In desperatehaste, Junkie, bending low, tried to extract the hook. It need scarcelybe said that a hook refuses to be extracted in haste. Before he couldfree it, the voice of MacRummle was heard in sighs and gasps of mildexasperation as he scrambled up the bank to disentangle his line. Therewas no time for consideration. Junkie dropped his cap, and, rollingbehind a mass of rock, squeezed himself into a crevice which was prettywell covered with pendent bracken. Donald vanished in a somewhatsimilar fashion, and both, remaining perfectly still, listened withpalpitating hearts to MacRummle's approach.
"Well, well!" exclaimed the fisher in surprise; "it's not every day Ihook a fish like this. A glengarry! And Junkie's glengarry! The smallrascal! Crumbs, too! ha! that accounts for it. He must have beenhaving his lunch here yesterday, and was so taken up with victuals thathe forgot his cap when he went away. Foolish boy! It is like hiscarelessness; but he's not a bad little fellow, for all that."
He chuckled audibly at this point. Junkie did the same inaudibly as hewatched his old friend carefully disengage the hook; but the expressionof his face changed a little when he saw his cap consigned to thefisher's pocket, as he turned and descended to the stream. Having giventhe fisher sufficient time to get away from the spot, Junkie emergedfrom his hiding-place.
"Tonal'," he said, in a low voice, looking round, "ye may come oot noo,man. He's safe away."
The ragged head, in a broad grin, emerged from a clump of bracken.
"It wass awful amusin', Junkie, wass it not?"
"Yes, Tonal', it was; but it won't be very amusin' for me to go all therest of the day
bareheaded."
Donald sympathised with his friend on this point, and assured him thathe would have divided his cap with him, as Junkie had divided his lunch,but for the fact that he never wore a cap at all, and the ragged hairwould neither divide nor come off. After this they resumed their workof dogging the fisher's steps.
It would require a volume to relate all that was said and done on thatlovely afternoon, if all were faithfully detailed; but our space and thereader's patience render it advisable to touch only on two points ofinterest.
As the day advanced the heat became overpowering, and, to escape fromthe glare of the sun for a little, the fisher took shelter under somevery tall bracken on the bank near a deep pool. In order to secure aslight feeling of pleasurable expectation while resting, he put on abait-cast, dropped the worm into the deepest part of the pool, proppedup his rod with several stones, and then lay down to watch. The turfhappened to be soft and level. As a natural consequence the tired manfell sound asleep.
"What's to be done noo, Junkie?"
"I don't know, Tonal'."
To make matters more exasperating, at that moment the rod began to bendand the reel to spin jerkily.
"A fush!" exclaimed Donald.
"Looks like it," returned his friend drily.
"I better gee a yell an' wauken him," suggested Donald.
"Ye'd better no'," said Junkie, shaking his fist.
"Yonder iss the end o' yer bonnet stickin' oot o' his pooch,what-e-ver," said Donald.
"You'd better lie low an' keep still," said Junkie; and, without furtherexplanation of his intentions, he went softly down the bank and crepttowards the sleeper, taking advantage of every stone and root and bushas he went along. Really, for a first attempt, it was worthy of thechild of a Pawnee brave.
MacRummle was a heavy sleeper, so Junkie had no difficulty in recoveringhis cap. Putting it on, he returned the way he had come.
"That wass cliver, man," said the admiring Donald, when his friendrejoined him.
Junkie accepted the compliment with a dignified smile, and then sat downto wait; but it was a severe trial of patience to both of them, for theold man slept steadily on, and even snored. He seemed, in short, tohave fairly gone to bed for the night.
"What say ye to bomb stanes at 'um?" suggested Donald.
"An' kill 'im, maybe," returned Junkie, with sarcasm in his eye.
"Heave divits at 'um, then."
"Ay; that's better."
Accordingly, the two urchins tore up a mass of turf which was much tooheavy to heave.
"Let's row'd," suggested the active-minded Donald.
As this also met the approval of Junkie, they carried the "divit," ormass of turf, to the bank just above the sleeper, and, taking a carefulaim, let it go. The bank was not regular. A lump diverted the divitfrom its course, and it plunged into the pool, to the obviousdiscomposure of the fish, which was still at intervals tugging at theline. Another divit was tried, but with similar result. A third clodwent still further astray. The bombardment then became exciting, asevery kind of effort does when one begins to realise the beneficialeffect of practice.
"I can see how it is," whispered Junkie, as he carefully "laid" the nextgun. "If we keep more to the right, it'll hit that lump o' grass,glance into the hollow, and--"
He stopped abruptly, and both boys stood in crab-like attitudes ofexpectation, ready to fly, for the divit took the exact course thusindicated, and bounding down the bank, hit MacRummle fair on his broadback.
The guilty ones dived like rabbits into the bracken.
"Bless me!" exclaimed the old gentleman, jumping up and shaking the dryearth off. "This is most remarkable. I do believe I've been asleep.But why the bank should take to crumbling down upon me is more than Ican understand. Hallo! A fish! You don't deserve such luck, Dick, myboy."
Winding in the line in a way which proved that the divit had done him noharm, he gave utterance to an exclamation of huge disgust as he drew aneel to the bank, with the line entangled hopelessly about its shinybody. This was too much for MacRummle. Unable to face the misery ofdisentanglement, he cut the line, despatched the eel, attached a newhook, and continued his occupation.
At the head of the pool in question the bank was so precipitous and highthat the boys could see only the top of the rod swinging gracefully toand fro as the patient man pursued his sport. Suddenly the top of therod described a wild figure in the air and disappeared. At the samemoment a heavy plunge was heard.
"Hech! he's tum'led in the pool," gasped Donald.
They rushed to the overhanging edge of the cliff and looked down. Sureenough MacRummle was in the water. They expected to see him swim, forJunkie knew he was an expert swimmer; but the poor man was floatingquietly down with the current, his head under water.
"Banged his heed, what-e-ver!" cried Donald, jumping up and boundingdown the bank to the lower and shallow end of the pool. Quick though hewas, Junkie outran him; but the unfortunate MacRummle wasunintentionally quicker than either, for they found him stranded whenthey got there.
Running into the water, they seized him by the hair and the collar ofhis coat, and dragged him into the shallow part easily enough, but theyhad not strength to haul him ashore.
"Fetch a divit, Tonal'--a big one, an' I'll keep up his head."
One of the masses of recent artillery was fetched, and the fisher's headwas gently pillowed on it, so as to be well out of the water.
"There's no cut that I can see," said Junkie, inspecting the headcritically; "he's only stunned, I think. Noo, Tonal', cut away to thehoose. Run as ye never ran before and tell them. I'll stop beside himfor fear his heed slips in again."
Donald went off like a shot. Junkie went a few steps with him,intending to fetch another divit. Looking back, he saw what made himsink into the heather, and give a low whistle. Donald heard it,stopped, and also hid himself, for MacRummle was seen trying to rise.He succeeded, and staggered to dry land, when, sitting down on a stone,he felt himself all over with an anxious expression. Then he felt alump on the back of his head, and smiled intelligently. After that hesqueezed as much water out of his garments as he could, quietly tookdown his rod, ascertained that the fish in his basket were all right,then looked with some perplexity at the big divit lying in the shallowclose to where he stood, and finally, with a highly contented expressionof countenance, wended his way homeward.
The two boys gave him time to get well out of sight in advance, and thenfollowed his example, commenting sagely as they went, on thedesirability of possessing pluck in old age, and on the value of thevarious lessons they had learned that day.