and Joe certainly stopped; but they did not turn, but stood firm,
noting that the man had a large reel of sea-fishing line evidently of
goodly length.

"Hullo!" he said, hoarsely. "What's for you?"

"What are you doing here?" cried Gwyn.

"What's that to you?"

"Everything. Do you know you are trespassing?"

"No. Am I?"

"Yes, of course."

"Thank ye for telling me. Good-morning."

Gwyn stared, and then looked at Joe.

For, instead of going at once, the man turned his back and drew upon his
line, whose end--evidently weighted--was hanging down the shaft; but
instead of continuing to draw it out, he let it run down again rapidly
from a reel.

"Here, stop that," cried Gwyn. "What are you doing?"

The man turned upon them, scowling.

"Hullo!" he said; "aren't you gone? What are you waiting for?"

"To know what you're doing on our property."

"Your property!" said the man, scornfully. "Can't you see what I'm
doing? Fishing."

"Fishing?" cried Joe, who felt staggered, and began wondering whether
there might be any underground communication with the sea, through which
some of the huge eels of the rocky cove might have made their way.

"Yes, fishing," growled the man. "Don't make that row, because I've got
one at me. Be off!"

"Nonsense!" cried Gwyn, sharply. "There are no fish there."

"How do you know, youngster?" said the man. "Ever tried?"

"No," replied Gwyn; "but I do know that there are no fish in a hole like
that."

"Ho! You're precious cunning. But never you mind, my young
sharpshooter. You be off while your shoes are good."

"How dare you order me to go!" cried Gwyn, flushing. "I told you this
was my father's property."

"No, you didn't," said the man, after giving a glance round. "You said
it was yours. Consequently you must be a liar, for you tells two tales.
Now be off, and don't bother me."

Joe looked inquiringly at Gwyn, and the silent question meant, "Hadn't
we better go and fetch your father?" But Gwyn felt upon his mettle, and
he cried angrily,--

"No, it's you who'll have to be off. You're on private grounds, and
it's all nonsense about fishing. I know what you are about."

"Oh, do you?" said the man, sneeringly, as he looked sidewise at the
lad, but went on busily all the same with his long line. "Well, what am
I about, young clever shaver, if I'm not fishing?"

"You're trespassing, as I told you; and whoever you are, you've no right
to be doing that