Part 52 (2/2)
And what a delight that was! What a reward to my patience! That it was a big one I had no doubt. If it had been a little fish it would have jigged and bobbed the float about in the most absurd way, just as if the little fish were thoughtless, and in a hurry to be off to play on the surface, whereas a big fish made it a regular business, and was calm and deliberate in every way.
”Now for it,” I thought, and raising the point of the rod slowly I was just going to strike when the grinding above my head ceased, and one of the voices I had before heard said:
”Well, we two have got to go up to the _Pointed Star_ to-night to get our orders, and then we shall know what's what.”
I forgot all about the fish and listened intently.
”Nay, they can't hear,” said the voice again, as if in answer to a warning; ”wheels makes too much noise. I don't care if they did.
They've had warnings enew. What did they want to coom here for?”
”Ay,” said another, ”trade's beginning to feel it a'ready. If we let 'em go on our wives and bairns 'll be starving next winter.”
”That's a true word, lad; that's a true word. When d'yow think it'll be?”
”Ah, that's kept quiet. We shall know soon enew.”
”Ay, when it's done.”
”Think this 'll sattle 'em?”
”Sattle! Ay, that it will, and pretty well time. They'll go back to Lonnon wi' their tails twix' their legs like the curs they are. Say, think they've got pistols?”
”Dunno. Sure to hev, ah sud say.”
”Oh!”
”Well, s'pose they hev? You aren't the man to be scarred of a pop-gun, are yo'?”
”I d'know. Mebbe I should be if I hev the wuck to do. I'm scarred o'
no man.”
”But you're scarred of a pistol, eh lad? Well, I wunner at yo'.”
”Well, see what a pistol is.”
”Ay, I know what a pistol is, lad. Man's got a pistol, and yo' hit 'im a tap on the knuckles, and he lets it fall. Then he stoops to pick it up, and k.n.o.bstick comes down on his head. Nowt like a k.n.o.bstick, lad, whether it be a man or a bit o' wood. Wants no loading, and is allus safe.”
”Well, all I've got to say is, if I have the wuck to do I shall--”
_Churr, churry, screech, and grind_. The noise drowned the words I was eager to hear, and I stood bathed with perspiration, and hot and cold in turn.
That some abominable plot was in hatching I was sure, and in another minute I might have heard something that would have enabled us to be upon our guard; but the opportunity had pa.s.sed, for the men were working harder than ever.
I was evidently in very bad odour with them, and I thought bitterly of the old proverb about listeners never hearing any good of themselves.
What should I do--stop and try to hear more?
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