Sure enough, Bob came down to the house that very evening, grinning and smirking, and looking as pleasant as if he felt sure that he was going to have some of the squire’s home-brewed ale, and half-a-crown as well. But Bob grinned a little more than he would have done in general upon such an occasion; and when he caught sight of the boys he kept grinning more than ever, and beckoning them in his uncouth way to come to him; but Harry and Philip did not feel much disposed to go to Bob, for there was all the dissatisfaction of the loss of the fish, and they did not like Bob being paid for what they did not profit by. But at last Bob’s demonstrations were so violent that the three boys went into the kitchen together, and then and there the dusty old rascal drew from behind him, all the while grinning and showing his teeth more than ever, the very basket they had lost, tied-up as though it had never been opened, and with all the fish inside.
Fred looked upon Bob as though he was a mighty conjurer.
“Why, they came down the stream to the mill,” said Harry, beaming with his discovery. “So they did, Master Harry; you’re right.”
“And you found them up against the grating?”
“So I did, Master Harry; I did find ’em there.”
“And then you brought them here?”
“So I did, Master Harry; you’re right, I did.”
“Oh! hooray!” shouted Harry. “Hooray!” shouted Phil.
“Hurray!” said Fred, hardly knowing why, but cheering because the others did. And then out came the Squire, and out came Mrs Inglis, and out came the eels, and out came the praises, and out came Bob’s half-crown; and the next day when those fish were cooked, the Squire declared that this was the best trout he had ever tasted; and as to the eels, why they were the richest, nicest, and best eels that were ever eaten, and no one enjoyed them better than the boys who had had so much difficulty in gaining them for a prize.