“No, no!” he exclaimed to himself. “I’ll tell him beforehand what I am going to do. If I was going to engage with him in mortal combat, the matter would be different; I should feel as if I was going to commit a murder; but now I feel as if I was going to inflict on him a very deserved punishment and take down his pride a little.” So Ernest set to work, and practised the trick Sergeant Dibble had taught him. After a day or two he took Buttar and Ellis into his confidence, and they all practised it together. Ellis, however, could not manage to accomplish the turn of the wrist in a way to be effective, but Buttar, who had resolved to be a soldier, and took a deep interest in all military exercises, was never weary in practising it. When Sergeant Dibble came again, he told Ernest that he would be perfect in another week, and complimented Buttar also on his proficiency.
Ellis, meantime, was making great advances in the use of the broadsword, and the Sergeant assured him that if he would go on and persevere, he would very soon be far superior to many idle fellows who now sneered at him, and would not practise unless the master was present.
Chapter Seven.
A Fishing Expedition.
“I say, Bracebridge, we must try our new rod before we break up,” said Ellis, one Saturday, just before the boys were going in to dinner. “It’s a capital afternoon for fishing, cloudy and soft. I’ll see about bait if you will promise to come. Buttar and Bouldon say they will, and so will Gregson; so we shall be a jolly party, and shall gain something even if we don’t catch fish.” Ernest, who always appeared to have more spare time than any one else, consented to go, provided he had half-an-hour’s reading after dinner, to get up some work. Ellis had learned to be almost as eager as his friend in anything he was about. He now hurried off to send Jim, a lame boy, who was allowed to go on errands for the young gentlemen, to prepare the baits for the fishing-party. They all assembled at the appointed hour, with capital rods in hand, with the exception of Gregson, who declared that he always made his own rods, and that his, though uncouth in appearance, would catch as many fish as all the rest put together. The young fishermen had very little excuse for not catching fish. There was a large pond, about two miles off, with a clear full stream running into it. In the stream were trout, grayling, roach, and dace, and the pond was full of fine carp, and tench, and perch, while occasionally the other fish from the stream condescended to swim into it. The fishing belonged to a gentleman in the neighbourhood, who took a great interest in the Doctor and his school, and always allowed a dozen boys at a time to fish there. They had to go to the Doctor or one of the masters for leave, and as seldom more than a dozen wished to go at a time, it was not often that any were disappointed. Off they set, with their fishing-rods over their shoulders, singing away as merrily as crickets. There were one or two ponds and streams in the way, where they proposed to try their fortune for a few minutes, as it was reported that sometimes very fine fish were caught in them. The first they came to was a quiet dark pond, shaded by trees. Gregson declared that he thought it must be full of fish, and he was considered an authority on such matters. Ellis, who knew also a good deal about fishing, rather doubted that such was the case.
“Come and try,” said Gregson; “there is no great harm in doing that, at all events.” Gregson prevailed, and no one perceived a quiet chuckle in the tone of his voice. He persuaded them all to fish with very small hooks and red worms, which he gave them. They had not fished long before Bouldon exclaimed, “I’ve a bite, I’ve a bite!” His float began to bob; down it went, and up he whisked his rod. “A fine fish,” he cried out; “but, hillo, it has legs—four legs, I declare! Why, it’s a monster; a terrible monster. Hillo! Ellis, Gregson, Buttar, come and help me. Will it bite, I wonder?” Gregson ran laughing up to Bouldon to see what was the matter.
“Why, it is a water-newt!” he exclaimed. “A harmless, curious little creature—there, don’t hurt it! It has not swallowed the hook. I’ll put it into my basket and take it home. It will live in a tub of water for a long time. Look! it is something like a lizard, but it has a flat tail made for swimming. What curious little feet and legs! Now, though the newt has four legs, it lays eggs; and to guard them from injury, wraps them up in the leaves of water plants, with its four paws. When the young newt is hatched, it is very like a tadpole. It is like a fish, for it breathes through gills; but as it increases in size the gills go away and the front legs appear, and then the hind ones. In a frog-tadpole the hind legs appear first, and then the front ones.”
“Curious sort of fellows,” observed Tom Bouldon, who had been listening attentively to Gregson’s account; “but, I say, I thought fellows, when they grew bigger, took to gills instead of throwing them aside.”