“Well, sor, I sits meself down comfortable, baits my hook wid a nice bit of fresh mate as any dacent fish would like to have, and then I says to meself, ‘Dinny,’ I says, ‘while ye’re waiting to hook a nice fish for the masther’s dinner, I’d have jist a whiff o’ tibakky if I were you.’ ‘Ye’re right and I will,’ I says; and I outs wid my pipe, fills it, and was just going to light up, when splash! There was a great big stone thrown in the wather.
“‘Ah, be aisy, Masther Jack,’ I says, for I knew it was you.”
“Why, I was away with my father,” cried Jack.
“To be sure ye were, Masther Jack, dear; but don’t ye see I thought it was your thrick; and bang comes another big stone down be me side.
“‘I’ll tell the masther if ye don’t lave off,’ I says. ‘That’s you, Masther Dick, as throwed that.’
“Splash comes another, and then I recklected as ye’d both be far away, and that it must be one of them dirthy little varmints, Coffee or Chicory. So I lays down me rod and line, as nice and sthrait a rod as ye’d cut out of the woods anywhere, ye know, sor, and I picked up my bit of stick ready for them.
“‘I’ll wait till ye throw again, me beauties,’ I says; and just as I says it to meself, a big stone hits me on the back, and another goes in just by me line.
“‘Now ye shall have it, ye wicked little villains,’ I says; and jumping up I was going to run at ’em, when, murther! there was about a dozen of the craytures coming down from the rocks, shouting and chattering, and throwing stones.
“‘Will ye be off?’ says one, ‘ye’ve no business fishing there widout lave.’”
“How do you know he said that?” said Dick dryly.