n the hill-side among the tall, thin
tree-trunks. There was no one except the dogs at the keeper's cottage,
in a clearing half-way down. Doll took the key of the boat-house from a
little hole under the eaves.

"I think Withers must be out," he remarked at last, after knocking and
calling at the locked door and peering through the closed window. Hugh
had been of that opinion for some time. "Gone out with his wife, I
expect. Never mind, we can do without him."

They went slipping over the dry beech-mast to the boat-house. Doll
unlocked the door and climbed into one of the boats; Hugh and Crack
followed. They got a perch-rod off a long shelf, and half a dozen
trimmers. Then they pulled out a little way and stopped near an
archipelago of water-lily leaves.

Doll got out the perch-rod and float and made a cast.

"It's not fishing," he said, apologetically, half to his guest and half
to his Maker. "But we are bound to get some baits."

Hugh nodded, and gazed down at the thin forest below. He could see the
perch moving in little companies in the still water beyond the
water-trees. Presently a perch, a very small one, out alone for the
first time, came up, all stiff head and shoulders and wagging tail, to
the carelessly covered hook.

"Don't, don't, you young idiot!" said Hugh, below his breath. But the
perch knew that the time had come when a perch must judge for himself.

The float curtesied and went under, and in another second the little
independent was in the boat.

"There are other fools in the world besides me, it seems," said Hugh to
himself.

"He'll do; but I wish he was a dace," said Doll, slipping the victim
into a tin with holes in the top. "Half a dozen will be enough."

They got half a dozen, baited and set the trimmers white side up, and
were turning to row back, when Doll's eyes became suddenly fixed.

"By Jove! there's something at it," he said, pointing to a trimmer at
some distance.

Both men looked intently at it. Crack felt that something was happening,
and left off smelling the empty fish-can.

The trimmer began to nod, to tilt, and then turned suddenly upsidedown,
and remained motionless.

"He's running the line off it," said Doll.

As he spoke the trimmer gave one jerk and went under. Then it
reappeared, awkwardly bustling out into the open.

"Oh, hang it all! it's Sunday," said Doll, with a groan. "We can't be
catching pike on a Sunday." And he caught up the oars and rowed swiftly
t