“Now then,” cried Jem, taking hold of the scrap of line to which the eel was attached and twisting it round his finger. “This all you caught?”
“No,” I said helplessly; “there’s an eel in that handkerchief hanging on the tree.”
Jem dropped the big eel again and trotted to the tree.
“Big as t’other?” he said. “Raw, haw! Here’s the hankerchy, but there’s no eel. Look ye here, he’s worked a hole through and gone. You didn’t kill him first?”
“It must be down there,” I said.
“Down here!” said Jem contemptuously; “he’s found his way back to the water again. Eels goos through the grass like snakes. Ketch anything else?”
“Two carp,” I said. “Here they are.”
“Ah, that’s better, and all alive, oh! I’ll carry ’em. Come along.”
He thrust a twig of willow through the gills of the fish, and led the way through the woods, and across some fields to a cottage, where a woman came to the door.
“Here, missus,” he said, “pitch some more wood on the fire. Young squire here stepped into the pond.”