They sat in a lap of land on top of the bank, where it fell sharp to the water, and just now a fish leapt in the shallows.
"Shall we fish, Mr. Power?" she said. "The rod is down there somewhere. They were too slow when I came out, and I gave it over."
"We will."
They found a roadway down the bank. They found the rod. They sat upon the bank. She put the rod over the water, and Power took a pipe from his pocket.
"They call you Moll, don't they? I am going to be a friend of yours. May I call you Molly? I think it prettier than Moll."
"Orl right, Mister. We won't quarrel over it. I reckon the mosquitoes like fishing too. Do you fish ever?"
"Sometimes. I shoot most when there's spare time. I like fishing though."
"Struth! Something's at me now. I won't yank yet. These fellers give a good bite when they mean business."
"Do you often come here? I've ridden by many times and watered my horse here; I've watered a good few mobs of cattle here, too. But I never knew how beautiful it was until I fished to-night."
"Now and again I get fair sick of Mum and Dad, and then I come and fish or take a walk along the bank. I like listening to the things that move in the dark."