Mr Willows and two men were at one end of the wall when Manners and the boys climbed on to it that afternoon, to stand in the middle looking up the valley over the long sheet of water to where it dwindled from some fifty yards wide to less than as many feet.
One of the upper sluices was opened, and though the great mill-wheel in its shed far below was going round at its most rapid rate, urged by the stream of water which passed along the chute, a good-sized fall was spurting out by the upper sluice.
These two exits were, however, not enough to keep the water down, so rapid was the flow from the hills to swell the stream, and the water in the great pool still rose. Hence it was that the second sluice was to be opened, and in a few minutes a third rush added its roar to that of the other two. Mr Willows stood watching for a few minutes, till he had satisfied himself by observing the painted marks upon a post that the water had ceased to rise, and then he walked away, leaving the others to chat with the men, who hung back for a few minutes after securing the sluice door, before going down to resume their regular work in the mill.
“Not much of a time for trout fishing, Mr Manners, sir,” said one of the men.
“No,” was the reply; “it is all over for the season for me.”
“Suppose so, sir. Have you young gents been below there to have a look at the eel-box?”
“Eels?” said Manners. “Ah, I like eels.”
“There’ll be plenty to-night, sir; they’ll be well on the move after sundown. I shouldn’t be surprised if there was a good take.”
“We ought to be there to see,” said Will. “The rains will have brought them down. It’s rare fun catching the slippery beggars. You’ll help, won’t you, Mr Manners?”
“Rather a slimy job,” was the reply; “but I’ll put on an old coat and pair of trousers, and come. What time?”