“Nay,” he said, recovering himself, “our Jacob nivver did that. He were fast asleep that night, and his bed were afire when I wackened him. Don’t say such a word as that.”
“I didn’t mean it, Hicky; but do lend me the gun.”
“Nay, my, lad, I wean’t. There’s the poont and welcome, but no gun.”
Dick knew the wheelwright too well to persevere; and in his heart he could not help admiring the man’s stern sense of honesty; so making up his mind to be content with some fishing and a good wander in the untrodden parts of the fen, he asked Hickathrift to get him some baits with his cast-net.
“Ay, I’ll soon get them for you, my lad,” said Hickathrift. “Get a boocket, Jacob, lad.”
The next minute he was getting the newly-made circular net with its pipe-leads from where it hung over the rafters of his shed, and striding down to a suitable shallow where a shoal of small fish could be seen, he ranged the net upon his arm, holding the cord tightly, and, giving himself a spin round, threw the net so that it spread out flat, with the pipe-leads flying out centrifugally, and covering a good deal of space, the leads driving the fish into the centre. When it was drawn a couple of dozen young roach and rudd were made captives, and transferred to the bucket of water Jacob brought.
“Fetch that little bit o’ net and a piece o’ band, lad,” said the wheelwright; and as soon as Jacob reappeared, Hickathrift bound the fine net over the top of the pail, and lowered it by the cord into a deep cold pool close by the punt.
“Theer they’ll be all ready and lively for you in the morning, and you’ll hev better sport than you would wi’ a gun.”
Opinions are various, and Dick’s were very different to the wheelwright’s; but he accepted his rebuff with as good a grace as he could, and went home.
The next morning was delicious. One of those lovely summer-times when the sky is blue, and the earth is just in its most beautiful robe of green.