Our work had so closely engaged our attention, that when we were ready to leave it and go in search of a good bathing-place, we discovered that our two animals had wandered quite out of sight, having crossed the bridge to reach the good pasture beyond the river.
I sent Ernest after them, and went alone to the extremity of the bay. It terminated in bold and precipitous cliffs, which extended into the deep water, and rose abruptly so as to form an inaccessible wall of rock and crag. Swampy ground, overgrown with large canes, intervened between me and these cliffs. I cut a large bundle of the reeds, and returned to Ernest.
It was some time before I found him, comfortably extended full length on the ground near the tent, and sleeping as sound as a top, while the cow and the ass, grazing at will, were again making for the bridge.
`Get up, Ernest, you lazy fellow!' exclaimed I, much annoyed, `Why don't you mind your business? Look at the animals! They will be over the river again!'
`No fear of that, father,' returned he, with the utmost composure. `I have taken a couple of boards off the bridge. They won't pass the gap.'
I could not help laughing at the ingenious device by which the boy had spared himself all trouble; at the same time I observed that it is wrong to waste the precious moments in sleep when duty has to be performed. I then bid him go and collect some salt, which was wanted at home, while I went to bathe.
On coming back, much refreshed, I again missed Ernest, and began to wonder whether he was still gathering salt, or whether he had lain down somewhere to finish his nap, when I heard him loudly calling: `Father, father! I've caught a fish! An immense fellow he is. I can scarcely hold him, he drags the line so!'
Hastening towards the spot, I saw the boy lying in the grass, on a point of land close to the mouth of the stream, and with all his might keeping hold of a rod. The line was strained to the utmost by the frantic efforts of a very large fish, which was attempting to free itself from the hook.
I quickly took the rod from him, and giving the fish more line, led him by degrees into shallow water. Ernest ran in with his hatchet and killed him. It proved to be a salmon of full fifteen pounds weight, and I was delighted to think of taking such a valuable prize to them.
`This is capital, Ernest!' cried I. `You have cleared yourself for once of the charge of laziness! Let us now carry this splendid salmon to the sledge. I will clean and pack it for the journey, that it may arrive in good condition, while you go and take a bath in the sea.'