"But what are you going to do?" her brother demanded. "Sit tamely down and submit to this tyranny? And what will be the next thing?—trampling the nests in the spring, I suppose, so that there won't be a single grouse left on the whole moor. Then why shouldn't they help themselves to a sheep or two, when they want mutton for dinner, or go into the Glen Orme forest for a stag, if they prefer venison?"
Mary rang the bell; Barbara came.
"Barbara," said she, "send a message to Hector that I want to see him."
When the tall and bronze-complexioned keeper made his appearance—looking somewhat concerned at this unusual summons—she briefly related to him what had occurred; and her tone implied that he was responsible for this petty outrage.
"I was offering," said Hector, in his serious and guarded way, "to go down to the ruvver with the chentlemen——"
"Yes, that is true enough," Fred Stanley broke in. "Hector did offer to go down with us. But surely it is a monstrous thing that we shouldn't be able to stroll along to a pool and have a cast by ourselves without being interfered with in this way. Come now, Hector, you must know who was likely to do a thing like that."
Hector paused for a moment, and then answered—
"Indeed, sir, I could not seh."
"Who is it who thinks the fishing in the Garra belongs to him, and is determined no one else shall have it? Isn't there anyone about with that idea in his head?" The question was put pointedly; it was clear what Fred Stanley meant; but there was no definite reply.
"There's some of the young lads they are fond of mischief," Hector said ambiguously. "And there's others nowadays that will be saying everyone has the right to fish."