Upon this his companion gave him a few useful hints, and said that fishing had been one of the chief pleasures or pastimes of his life. He had fished in Scotland, Wales, Norway, and a host of other places.
He did not succeed in pulling out more fish than Peace, but that did not much matter—he would have done so if they had bitten more freely.
“Much sport, gentlemen?” said a young man who had been walking along the bank of the river.
“Middling, only middling, as far as I am concerned,” returned the old gentleman; “but then I’ve not been long here. This gentleman has done pretty well.”
“Yes, but then I’ve had four days of it, this being my fifth,” cried Peace. “I mustn’t complain, I suppose—still, I might have done better.”
“Ah, that’s what we all say,” observed the man on the bank. “But have you heard the news?”
“What news?” inquired the old gentleman.
“Why, very bad. Spearman’s silk-mill was broken into last night, and some hundreds’ worth of property stolen.”
“Never!” cried several of the fishermen. “Broken into—eh?”
“So it is supposed. Indeed, there cannot be much doubt about that.”