"Bime by. Wait. Don't talk. In a minute I'll have a whopper."
It was a relief to hear him speak in such an ordinary way. She had supposed that the language of tramps was something wholly vile. His voice was husky, but that might be from illness, for he certainly did look ill. Well, if he wanted her to stay she would better please him. He would tire of keeping her there after awhile, or so she hoped. Even a tramp couldn't go on fishing forever, and somebody might come.
He was really very skilful. Almost as soon as Uncle Moses could have done so he had landed his first catch and left it floundering on the bank. Katharine had never thought about the cruel side of angling. It was left for this forlorn creature to teach her that of this pretty pastime there is something else than lounging beside charming waterways and beneath green boughs. Angleworms might not suffer much, might even get used to being tortured, as Montgomery averred; but how about that beautiful shining thing done to slow death on the sward beside her? A new pity for this humbler of God's creatures made her forget her lingering fear of the man. With a cry she snatched the rod from his hand, exclaiming:
"You sha'n't do that any more! It's wicked! Oh, the poor, pretty thing! We have taken away its life and we can never give it back again. I feel as if I had seen murder done. I understand Aunt Eunice now about the poultry. Oh, it is dreadful!"
This was the girl's first knowledge of killing, and she was extreme in her revulsion as she was in all things. But her emotion was a good thing because it recalled her to the fact that she had something else to do. She must be about it at once, and if the man followed or annoyed her—why, she must trust she could escape him.
Rapidly unfolding the rod, she was conscious that the tramp was again regarding her with that intent gaze which had nothing menacing in it, but was rather wistful and sad. He did not resent her stopping his sport, and, turning away from her, he picked up the fish and tossed it back into the water. Then she went a few steps to where she had placed the basket and drew it out from the alders.
Now his whole attitude changed. He had not suffered greatly from hunger heretofore. The gardens and fields were too rich just then with fruits and vegetables, and nobody missed a few potatoes from the heaps dug, nor corn from the shocks. There were apples galore, and in some orchards pears and even plums. The stone walls bordering the farms were hung with wild frost-grapes, while the nut-trees offered their abundance to whomsoever would accept. Beneath these same trees there was game to be ensnared even by one who carried no gun, and as for poultry-yards, nearly every householder had one. Nobody, not even a tramp, need go hungry on that countryside, unless his scruples prevented him from helping himself.
This particular tramp had no scruples of that sort whatever. As Katharine picked up her heavy basket, he was upon his feet and relieved her of the burden at once. She tried to retain her hold of the handle, but was no match for him in strength, and had to watch him drop down upon the bank, tear apart the two halves of the cover, and explore the contents.
She made one effort to rescue Susanna's good things from this "thief," as she now knew him to be, but he flung her hands aside so rudely he hurt them; and when she cried to him: "You mustn't! You must not touch those things, they aren't mine!" he did not notice her.
Already one pumpkin pie was half-devoured. Uncooked food from the fields may, indeed, prevent starvation, but here was luxury. If "the proof of the pudding is in the eating," Susanna Sprigg should have been highly flattered. Katharine had never seen anybody eat as this man did. Before she could say, "Well, you sha'n't have the basket, even if you do steal the things from it!" the first pie had wholly gone. He tried a little variety: broke the brown loaf in two, and, unrolling the pat of butter, generously smeared it, using his dirty hands for knife.