he said, resuming his
seat and beginning to paint once more.

The boys were silent for a few moments, as they examined the picture
critically.

"Lovely," said Will, at last.

"Yes," said Josh; "I like it better than that last you did."

"Mean it, boys?"

"Why, of course!" said the lads together.

"Hum! Hum! Yes, it isn't so bad as usual," said the artist, sadly. "I
may say it is pretty. But that's all. I have tried very hard, but
there is nothing great in my stuff. I suppose I haven't got the right
touch in me. But never mind; painting has given me many a happy day
amongst the most beautiful scenes in creation, and I suppose that I
oughtn't to grumble if it gives me honest pleasure instead of coin.
Why, it has made me friends, too, with a pair of as reckless young
ruffians as ever gloried in playing a trick. My word, Josh, I must be a
good man! If I hadn't a better temper than your friend Drinkwater,
Master Will, I should have loosened both your skins with a good licking
more than once."

"Well, don't do it now," said Will, grinning. "Mine feels quite loose
enough, and I want you to come and fish."

"Brought my rod, then, have you? But what am I to do with my traps?"

"Fold up the umbrum," said Will, "and I'll climb up here and stuff them
into the cave. Then they'll be out of the wet when the rain comes."

"Ah, to be sure," said the artist. "Capital! But it isn't going to
rain."

"It is," said Will, decisively. "Look yonder: the old Tor's got his
nightcap on."

"So he has," cried the artist, eagerly, as he looked up at the
mountainous top, miles away, nearly hidden by a faint white mist.
"Here, hold hard a minute; I must dash that in my picture."

"No, no," cried the boys, in a breath. "You can do that any time. Come
on."

"Well, it seems a pity," said the artist, "but somehow you two always
make me feel quite a boy again and ready to take holiday and play.
There, put away my traps."

A few minutes later, umbrella, easel, and colour-box were safely stowed
away in a narrow opening in the face of the limestone rock, and the
three were trudging on upwards to a mighty bend. There a great rift
opened out into a wide amphitheatre, where, shallow and bright with
flashing stickle, the stream danced among the stones, to calm down
directly after in deep pool after pool, which looked like so many
silvery mirrors netted by the rings formed by the rising fish.

"Now, Mr Manners," cried Josh, "