Part 17 (2/2)
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
FIGHTING THE ENEMY.
Gwyn Pendarve's ”Come on!” was loyally responded to by Joe Jollivet, and the two lads made a hurried charge down the slope at the interloper so busy about the old mine-shaft.
Now, if you take two dogs out for a walk in the country, unless they are particularly well-behaved, spiritless animals, as soon as they see sheep, cow, or bullock grazing, they will make a furious dash, and if the grazing creature runs, they will have a most enjoyable hunt. But if the quarry stands fast and makes a show of attacking in turn, the probabilities are that the dogs will slacken speed, stop short a few yards away, give vent to their opinions upon the unnatural behaviour of the animal in barks, lower their triumphantly waving tails, and come back at a gentle trot, stopping at times, though, to turn their heads and make a few more remarks in dog language.
Truth to tell, when Gwyn and Joe made their charge, they fully expected to see the man leaning over the old wall start off and run; but, as it happened, he did not, but stood up, turned, and faced them, looking a big, sour-faced, truculent fellow, who scowled at them and stood his ground.
Whatever their inclinations might have been for the moment, not being dogs, and each having his prestige to keep up in his companion's eyes, Gwyn and Joe certainly stopped; but they did not turn, but stood firm, noting that the man had a large reel of sea-fis.h.i.+ng line evidently of goodly length.
”Hullo!” he said, hoa.r.s.ely. ”What's for you?”
”What are you doing here?” cried Gwyn.
”What's that to you?”
”Everything. Do you know you are trespa.s.sing?”
”No. Am I?”
”Yes, of course.”
”Thank ye for telling me. Good-morning.”
Gwyn stared, and then looked at Joe.
For, instead of going at once, the man turned his back and drew upon his line, whose end--evidently weighted--was hanging down the shaft; but instead of continuing to draw it out, he let it run down again rapidly from a reel.
”Here, stop that,” cried Gwyn. ”What are you doing?”
The man turned upon them, scowling.
”Hullo!” he said; ”aren't you gone? What are you waiting for?”
”To know what you're doing on our property.”
”Your property!” said the man, scornfully. ”Can't you see what I'm doing? Fis.h.i.+ng.”
”Fis.h.i.+ng?” cried Joe, who felt staggered, and began wondering whether there might be any underground communication with the sea, through which some of the huge eels of the rocky cove might have made their way.
”Yes, fis.h.i.+ng,” growled the man. ”Don't make that row, because I've got one at me. Be off!”
”Nonsense!” cried Gwyn, sharply. ”There are no fish there.”
”How do you know, youngster?” said the man. ”Ever tried?”
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