“Oh, come on,” said Douglas, who was not of an imaginative turn of mind. “I want to catch some minnows an’ I bet there aren’t any smugglers there, anyway.”
William was annoyed by this interruption, but arguing strenuously, proving the presence of smugglers in the cave to his own entire satisfaction, he led his band out of the cave and on to the high road again.
The subject of smugglers soon languished. They were passing a large barrack-like house which had been in the process of building for the best part of a year. It was finished at last. Curtains now hung at the windows and there were signs of habitation—a line of clothes flapping in the breeze in the back garden and the fleeting glimpse of a woman at one of the windows. A very high wall surrounded the garden.
“Wonder what it is,” said Henry speculatively, “looks to me like a prison.”
“P’raps it’s a lunatic asylum,” said Ginger, “why’s it got a high wall round it like that if it’s not a lunatic asylum?”
Discussing the matter animatedly they wandered on to the stream.
“Now catch your salmon,” challenged Ginger.
“All right. I bet I will,” said William doggedly.
For a short time they fished in silence.
Then William gave a cry of triumph. His hook had caught something beneath one of the big stones.