Part 18 (1/2)

”No,” replied Gwyn; ”but I do know that there are no fish in a hole like that.”

”Ho! You're precious cunning. But never you mind, my young sharpshooter. You be off while your shoes are good.”

”How dare you order me to go!” cried Gwyn, flus.h.i.+ng. ”I told you this was my father's property.”

”No, you didn't,” said the man, after giving a glance round. ”You said it was yours. Consequently you must be a liar, for you tells two tales.

Now be off, and don't bother me.”

Joe looked inquiringly at Gwyn, and the silent question meant, ”Hadn't we better go and fetch your father?” But Gwyn felt upon his mettle, and he cried angrily,--

”No, it's you who'll have to be off. You're on private grounds, and it's all nonsense about fis.h.i.+ng. I know what you are about.”

”Oh, do you?” said the man, sneeringly, as he looked sidewise at the lad, but went on busily all the same with his long line. ”Well, what am I about, young clever shaver, if I'm not fis.h.i.+ng?”

”You're trespa.s.sing, as I told you; and whoever you are, you've no right to be doing that.”

”Anybody's got a right to fish.”

”Yes, in the sea, but not on private grounds; so now be off at once.”

”And suppose I say I won't,” said the man, menacingly.

”But you won't now you're told. Be off, please, at once; we can't have you doing that.”

”Why, you're never going to interfere with a stranger who's trying to ketch a few podnoddles,” said the man, grinning.

”No, but I will with a stranger who has come spying and measuring that mine; so be off at once, and no more nonsense.”

”Let's fetch the Colonel,” whispered Joe.

”Yah! go and fetch your grandmother,” snarled the man. ”Look here, both of you, I didn't interfere with you; don't you come interfering with me, my lads, because I'm one of the sort who turns ugly when he's meddled with.”

Gwyn hesitated for a few moments, and then stepped close up, clapped his hand on the man's shoulder, and pointed toward the wall.

”Come!” he cried; ”that's the way, and don't you come here again.”

The man turned upon him with a wild-beast-like snarl.

”Do you want me to pitch you down that hole?” he cried.

”No, and you daren't do it,” cried Gwyn, whose temper rose at this.

”Now, then, will you go?”

For answer the man swung round fiercely, bringing his right arm across Gwyn's chest and sending him staggering back for a yard or two.

”Come on, Gwyn, let's fetch the Colonel.”

Gwyn's blood was up. He felt not the slightest inclination to run for help, but, big as the man was, he sprang forward with such energy that, in his surprise, the fellow gave way for the moment, and Gwyn seized the opportunity to make a s.n.a.t.c.h at the great reel he held, wrenched it from his hand, and threw it to Joe, who caught it as cleverly as if it had been a cricket ball.

”Run round the other side, Joe, and drag it out. Run off with it.