The Ocean Cats Paw | Page 5

the far side of the pool,
while the soldiers grounded arms and looked on with the deepest
interest.
"Prisoners escaped," said the sergeant loudly, as he, too, still gazed at
the rushings of the trout--"Frenchman--came up this way--Yes, a big
'un, youngster--Mind! You'll lose him!--One was quite a lad, and--Well
done! You have got him yet!--We saw him run up this way, and--Well
done!--You have handled a fly-rod before--Did you see anything of
him?"
"Eh? What?" said another voice sharply, and a fresh comer suddenly
appeared upon the scene in the shape of Uncle Paul, who stared in
astonishment at the group as he stepped into the little amphitheatre
from behind the rocks.

His appearance acted like magic upon the soldiers, who brought their
muskets to the carry, while the sergeant sprang to attention and saluted.
"After escaped prisoners, sir. Asking the young gentleman if he had got
one of them up here."
"Pooh! Nonsense! Absurd!" cried the gentleman addressed, just as
Rodd brought his fish to land and went down on one knee to grip it in
his left hand. "Prisoners, no!" literally barked the fresh comer, setting
down his bottle and net, and taking off his straw hat to wipe his
streaming face with a big yellow and red bandanna handkerchief. "Here,
Rodd, boy," he cried, with a chuckle, "empty your pockets and then
open your creel and show the sergeant how many prisoners you have
caught. Hot up here, my lad!" he continued, and the sergeant and men
grinned. "Thirsty?"
"Yes, sir," said the sergeant, grinning; "pretty tidy. We have had a
precious good run."
"Well, there's plenty of beautiful water. Shall I lend you my
drinking-cup?"
"Thankye, sir," said the sergeant.
"Thankye, indeed!" said the bluff speaker, with a chuckle, and he thrust
his hand into his pocket. "There you are; there's a shilling for you to get
some cider. I dare say you know where better than I can tell you. No,
we have seen no prisoners."
"Thank you, sir! You are a gentleman," said the sergeant. "Didn't want
to interfere with the young gent's sport, but we had got our duty to do.
Left face, my lads! Forward!" And the next minute the military party
were on the tramp, to pass through the entrance to the little
amphitheatre and disappear, just as Uncle Paul was lowering himself
gently down upon a huge boulder stone and dragging round the wallet
which hung from his right shoulder.
"Phew!" he gasped. "Pretty job I have had to find you, Pickle! I took a

short cut, as I thought, and it proved a long one. I have had a round.
Aren't you hungry, boy?"
"Starving, uncle," replied the lad, as he dropped the fish into the creel,
hooked his fly on to one of the rings, and tightened the line. "But let's
come out here on to the heath. It will be more soft and comfortable to
sit down."
"Bah!" barked Uncle Paul. "I am not going to stir again till I have had
something to eat and a rest. There, lay your rod down. Bother the
soldiers! There was another party of them out yonder, shouted at me to
stop, and because I didn't, made as if they were going to fire. Yes, they
had better! But I had to stop; and then they began questioning me about
their escaped French prisoners, and wanted to know who I was and
where I was going, and I thought that they were going to make me a
prisoner and march me off yonder, only I showed them my card and
asked them if I sounded like a French prisoner. They were civil then,
and I gave them a shilling. That's two shillings I have fooled away out
here on this moor, where I should have said it wasn't possible for a man
to spend a farthing. Come on; help yourself," and he held out the wallet
for his companion to take one of the big sandwiches it contained.
"I think we had better go on outside, uncle," said the boy. "There's
more breeze out there, and the rocks don't reflect the heat."
"Do you?" said Uncle Paul, with his mouth full. "There's quite wind
enough in here to keep me alive, and I am so hot I don't want to go out
to be blown on and catch cold.--My word, the old lady didn't forget the
mustard! Come, eat away, Pickle. Let's start fair, or you will soon be a
sandwich behind. My word, what an appetite this air does give one!"
"Yes, uncle," said the boy, who, in spite of an effort to control himself,
could not help darting an anxious glance from time to time at the
opening between the rocks.
"Capital sandwiches, Pickle," continued the uncle, eating away