Part 23 (2/2)
For away went that little wretch again, tearing over to the other side, where he lashed and better lashed the surface; and then, getting tired of that exercise, he somewhat sullenly came sailing into mid-stream, where there was a smooth, dark current, bounded on the side next the fisherman by some brown shelves of rock only a few inches under water.
And what must this demon of a fish do but begin boring into the stream, so that every moment the line was being drawn nearer and nearer to the knife-like edge.
”Here, Robert, what am I to do now?” Lionel cried, in dismay. ”Another couple of inches, and it's all over! How are we to get him out of that hole?”
”Mebbe he'll no go mich deeper,” Robert observed, calmly, but with his gray eyes keenly watching.
”If I lose this fish,” Lionel said, between his teeth, ”I'll throw myself into the pool after him!”
”You'd better not,” said Miss Cunyngham, placidly, ”for if Robert has to gaff you, you'll find it a very painful experience.”
But now the line was slackening a little; the fisherman reeled in quickly; the salmon made his appearance--undoubtedly yielding; and then, coming over the shallow rocks in obedience to the pressure of the rod, he once more sailed into the black, clear pool just below them.
Cautiously old Robert crept down. When he was close to the water, he bared his right arm and grasped the gaff by the handle; then he waited and watched, for the salmon was still too deep. Lionel, meanwhile, had got back a bit on the rock, so that any sudden rush might not snap the top of his rod in two; then he also waited and watched, but somewhat increasing the pressure on the fish. Miss Honnor was probably as interested as either of them, but she only said,
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”_Cautiously old Robert crept down. When he was close to the water, he bared his right arm and grasped the gaff by the handle._”]
”I think he is well-hooked, and you'll get him, but don't bear too hardly on him for all that.”
The conclusion of the fight proved to be a series of rapid and cautious skirmishes between the salmon and old Robert; for, as soon as the former discovered that danger awaited him at the foot of the rock, he made every possible effort to break away, and then, getting more and more exhausted, allowed himself to be led in again. And then at last, on his sailing in almost on his side, so dead beat was he, a firm stroke of the gaff caught him behind the shoulder, and the next moment he was in mid-air, the next again on the bare rock.
Now when you have slain a stag one day, it is not so much of a triumph to kill a salmon the next; nevertheless Lionel was as heartily glad to see that fish ash.o.r.e as he would have been deeply mortified had it escaped. For was not Honnor Cunyngham looking on? Nay, she was kind enough to say to him,
”You played that fish very well, Mr. Moore.”
”I have been watching you so often,” said he, modestly, ”that I must have learned something. And now you must take all the pools on the way home. I won't touch the rod again unless when wading is absolutely necessary. You see. I have no right to this salmon at all; I consider you have made me a present of him.”
”We must try and get another somehow, between us, before getting back to the lodge,” said she; and this unconscious coupling of themselves as companions sounded pleasant to his ears.
Moreover, as old Robert had now the fish to carry, Lionel, as usual, made bold to claim Miss Honnor's waterproof, which he slung over his arm; and that also was a privilege he greatly enjoyed. Indeed, his satisfaction as they now proceeded to walk along to the Horseshoe Pool was but natural in the circ.u.mstances. This charming companions.h.i.+p secured all to himself--the capture of the salmon--the tribute that had been paid to his skill--the magnetic waterproof hanging over his arm--the prospect of a long ramble home on this beautiful afternoon: all these things combined were surely sufficient to put any young man in an excellent humor. And there was something more in store for him.
”Do you know,” he was saying, as they walked along together, ”that I have grown quite used to the solitariness of this neighborhood? I don't find it strange, or melancholy, or oppressive any longer. I suppose when I get back to a crowded city, the roar of it will be absolutely bewildering; indeed, I am looking forward with a good deal of interest to seeing something of the world again at Kilfearn--which can't be a very big place either.”
”Oh, are you going to the opening of the Kilfearn Town Hall?” she asked.
”Yes,” said he, with a little surprise, ”I thought everybody was going.
Aren't you? I understood the whole world--of Ross-s.h.i.+re--was to be there, and that I was to make a sudden plunge into a perfect whirlpool of human life.”
”It will amuse you,” she said, with a quiet smile. ”You will see all the county families there, staring at one another's guests; and you will hear a lot of songs, like 'My Pretty Jane' and 'Ever of Thee,' sung by bashful young ladies. At the opening of the proceedings my brother Hugh will make a speech; he is their chairman, and I know precisely what he will say. Hugh always speaks to the point. It will be something like this: 'Ladies and gentlemen, I am glad to see you here to-night. We still want 180. We mean to give two more concerts to clear the debt right off. You must all come and bring your friends. I will not longer stand in the way of the performers who have kindly volunteered their services.'”
”And that is a most admirable speech,” her companion exclaimed. ”It says everything that is wanted and nothing more; I call it a model speech!”
”Mr. Moore,” she said, suddenly looking up, ”are you going to sing at the concert?”
”I believe so,” he answered.
”What are you going to sing?”
”Oh, I don't know yet. Whatever I am asked for. Lady Adela is arranging the programme.” And then he added, rather breathlessly, ”Is there anything you would care to have me sing?”
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