“And bless the world by so doing,” said Wat, grimly. “Twenty-one,” he added, softly.
“What’s twenty-one?” said Gil, sharply.
“One-and-twenty trout,” replied Wat, who had finished his counting.
“Hang your trout!” cried Gil, impatiently.
“No; hang Abel Churr,” said Wat; “for he’s a lazy, sneaking, mischief-loving reptile. I’d like to put the rope around his neck.”
“Now go,” said Gil, sharply. “See the lads and get them together. We’ll have those stores up to-night.”
“The flour and all?”
“Everything. The sooner it is under cover the better. You can land all by the beeches at once, and to-night we’ll get it up.”
“What time shall we begin?”
“Leave the river at twelve. It will be two before we get all to the store, and we can be back soon after three.”