Part 75 (1/2)

Dexter's eyes brightened, and he was about to say _yes_. But he said _no_, for it seemed unfair to live better than his comrade, and just then the vision of Bob Dimsted looking very jealous and ill-humoured rose before him.

”I'm in a hurry to get back,” he said.

The woman nodded, and Dexter hastened back to the water-side.

”I was just a-going without yer,” was his greeting. ”What a while you've been!”

”I was as quick as I could be,” said Dexter apologetically.

”No, you weren't, and don't give me none of your sarce,” said Bob.

”Kitch holt o' that scull and pull. D'yer hear!”

Dexter obeyed, and they rowed on for about a mile before a suitable place was found for landing and lighting a fire, when, after a good deal of ogreish grumbling, consequent upon Bob wanting his breakfast, a similar meal to that of the previous day was eaten, and they started once more on their journey down-stream to the sea, and the golden land which would recompense Dexter, as he told himself, for all this discomfort, the rough brutality of his companion, and the p.r.i.c.kings of conscience which he felt whenever Coleby occurred to his mind, and the face of Helen looked reproach into the very depth of his inner consciousness.

All that morning, when they again started, he found the river widen and change. Instead of being clear, and the stones visible at the bottom, the banks were further away, so were the hills, and the water was muddy.

What was more strange to Dexter was that instead of the stream carrying them along it came to meet them.

At last Bob decided that they would moor by the bank, and begin once more to fish.

They landed and got some worms, and for a time had very fair sport, taking it in turns to catch some small rounded silvery and creamy transparent fish, something like dace, but what they were even Bob did not know. He was never at a loss, however, and he christened them sea-gudgeon.

Dexter was just landing one when a sour-looking man in a shabby old paintless boat came by close to the sh.o.r.e, and looked at them searchingly. But he looked harder at the boat as he went by, turned in, as it seemed, and rowed right into the land.

”There must be a little river there,” Bob said. ”We'll look presently.

I say, didn't he stare!”

Almost as he spoke the man came out again into the tidal river and rowed away, went up some distance, and they had almost forgotten him when they saw him come slowly along, close insh.o.r.e.

”Bob,” whispered Dexter, ”he's after us.”

To which Bob responded with a contemptuous--

”Yah!”

”Much sport?” said the man, pa.s.sing abreast of their boat about half a dozen yards away, and keeping that by dipping his oars from time to time.

”Pretty fair,” said Bob, taking the rod. ”'Bout a dozen.”

”What fish are they!” said Dexter eagerly, and he held up one.

”Smelts,” said the man, with a peculiar look. ”Come fis.h.i.+ng?”

”Yes,” said Bob sharply. ”We've come for a day or two's fis.h.i.+ng.”

”That's right,” said the man, with a smile that was a little less pleasant than his scowl. ”I'm a fisherman too.”

”Oh, are yer?” said Bob.