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 glass, 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 passed 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 th