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moments he looked furious; then he seemed to grow sulky, and then in a
low surly voice he said:

"I say, Sep, it isn't true, is it?"

"Isn't what true?"

"About the--about what old stay-sail said?"

"About you being disagreeable?"

"Yes. It isn't true, is it?"

I nodded.

"I don't believe it," he said impetuously. "I'm as good-tempered a chap
as anybody, only people turn disagreeable with me. Well, you are a
pretty mate to turn against me like that."

"I don't turn against you, Bob, and I don't mind your being
disagreeable," I said; "but you asked me, and I told you the truth."

Bob stood quite still and thoughtful, as if he were watching the fishes,
and he began to whistle softly a very miserable old tune that the
shepherds sang out on the moor--one which always suggested winter to me
and driving rain and cold bleak winds.

"Look here!" I said, for the water was draining away fast out of the
pool now, the stones that banked up the bottom of the woven hurdle-work
being visible here and there.

But Bob did not move. He stood there with his hands deep in his pockets
and the water up to his knees still, the part where he was being deeper,
and he kept on whistling softly to himself.

"Why can't you look, Bob?" I said. "You can see the fishes quite
plain."

"I don't want to see 'em," he replied sulkily. "When are you going
home?"

"Oh, not forever so long; not till tea-time. Here comes Big!"

Bob did not look round, but his ears seemed to twitch as the sound of
our schoolmates' heavy tread came over the stones, for he lumbered along
at a trot with a big maund, as we called the baskets there, in one hand,
a great landing-net in the other. But as Bigley came to the edge of the
pool Bob waded out and said in a low quiet voice:

"Shall I carry the basket?"

We both stared, for in an ordinary way Bob would have shouted, "Here,
give us hold of the net," and snatched at it or anything else in his
desire to take the lead.

"No, no," cried Bigley, though. "You two chaps are visitors. You have
the first go, Bob, and then let Sep Duncan try. But it's no use yet."

He was quite right; there was too much room for the fish to dart about,
and so we stood here, and crept there, to watch them as they glided
about among the swaying sea-weed, all brown and olive-green, and full of
bladder-like pods to hold them up in the water. Sometimes there was a
rush, and a swirl in the pool. At another time we co