Through the Fray | Page 6

in the heart of the moorlands. Neither of them had ever
tried it before, but they had heard it spoken of as one of the best
streams for fish in that part. On reaching its banks the rods were put
together, the hooks were baited with worms, and a deep pool being
chosen they set to work. After fishing for some time without success
they tried a pool higher up, and so mounted higher and higher up the
stream, but ever with the same want of success.
"How could they have said that this was a good place for fish?"
Tompkins said angrily at last. "Why, by this time it would have been
hard luck if we had not caught a dozen between us where we usually
fish close to the town, and after our long walk we have not had even a
bite."
"I fancy, Tompkins," Ned said, "that we are a couple of fools. I know it
is trout that they catch in this stream, and of course, now I think of it,
trout are caught in clear water with a fly, not with a worm. Father said
the other day he would take me out some Saturday and give me a
lesson in fly fishing. How he will laugh when I tell him we have wasted
all our afternoon in trying to catch trout with worms!"
"I don't see anything to laugh at," Tompkins grumbled. "Here we waste
a whole half holiday, and nothing to show for it, and have got six or
seven miles at least to tramp back to school."
"Well, we have had a nice walk," Ned said, "even if we are caught in
the rain. However, we may as well put up our rods and start. I vote we
try to make a straight cut home; it must be ever so much shorter to go
in a straight line than to follow all the windings of this stream."
They had long since left the low lands, where trees and bushes bordered
the stream, and were in a lonely valley where the hills came down close
to the little stream, which sparkled among the boulders at their feet.
The slopes were covered with a crop of short wiry grass through which
the gray stone projected here and there. Tiny rills of water made their
way down the hillside to swell the stream, and the tinge of brown
which showed up wherever these found a level sufficient to form a pool

told that they had their source in the bogs on the moorland above.
Tompkins looked round him rather disconcertedly.
"I don't know," he said. "It's a beastly long way to walk round; but
suppose we got lost in trying to make our way across the hills."
"Well, just as you like," Ned said, "I am game to walk back the way we
came or to try and make a straight cut, only mind don't you turn round
and blame me afterward. You take your choice; whichever you vote for
I am ready to do."
"My shoes are beginning to rub my heels," Tompkins said, "so I will
take the shortest way and risk it. I don't see we can go far out of our
way."
"I don't see that we can," Ned replied. "Marsden lies to the east, so we
have only to keep our backs to the sun; it won't be down for another
two hours yet, and before that we ought to be in."
By this time they had taken their rods to pieces, wound up their lines,
and were ready to start. A few minutes' sharp climbing took them to the
top of the slope. They were now upon the moor, which stretched away
with slight undulations as far as they could see.
"Now," Ned said, "we will make for that clump of rocks. They seem to
be just in the line we ought to take, and by fixing our eyes upon them
we shall go straight."
This, however, was not as easy to do as Ned had fancied; the ground
was in many places so soft and boggy that they were forced to make
considerable detours. Nevertheless the rocks served as a beacon, and
enabled them to keep the right direction; but although they made their
way at the best of their speed it was an hour after starting before they
approached the rock.
When they were within fifty yards of it a figure suddenly rose. It was
that of a boy some fifteen years of age.
"Goa back," he shouted; "dang yer, what be'est a cooming here vor?"
The two boys stopped astonished.
"We are going to Marsden," Ned replied; "but what's that to you?"
"Doan't ee moind wot it be to oi," the boy said; "oi tell ee ee