Something of these thoughts may have been easily read in my face, for Sir William said, with some abruptness:
"It is not money; it is principle that men fight for."
I was startled, although Sir William sometimes had a way of rounding out my groping thoughts with sudden spoken words which made me fear him.
"Well, well," he said, laughing and rising to stretch his cramped limbs; "this is enough for one day, Michael. Let the morrow fret for itself, lad. Come, smile a bit! Shall we have a holiday, perhaps the last for many a month? Nay, do not look so sober, Micky. Who knows what will come? Who knows; who knows?"
"I shall stand by you, sir, whatever comes," said I.
But Sir William only smiled, drawing me to him, one arm about me.
"Suppose," said he, "that you and I and Mr. Duncan and Felicity and Peter and Esk take rods and bait and go a-fishing in the Kennyetto by Fonda's Bush!"
"A peg-down fishing match!" cried I, enchanted.
"Ay, a peg-down match, and the prize whatever the victor wills—in reason. What say you, Michael?"
I was about to assent with enthusiasm when something occurred to me and I stopped.