"I am not at all an advocate for the practice of dog eating," said Ernest. "But I do argue that civilised and educated people, as we profess to be, should obtain a far greater knowledge of the productions of the earth than we possess." Gregson was glad to find himself so well supported, and the rest finally agreed that they would get books and try and pick up some knowledge on the subject.
"Books are all very well, and very important indeed; but they alone won"t do; you must study and examine for yourselves. Books will, by themselves, never give you a practical knowledge of natural history."
This conversation lasted till the merry party arrived at the stream where they proposed to fish. They all set to work, each in his own way.
Ernest was the only fly-fisher of the party. There was a light breeze which just rippled some of the deep pools in the stream, and as he walked up it, pa.s.sing his companions one after the other, he seldom pa.s.sed ten minutes without getting a rise and catching a fish.
"Hillo, Gregson," said Bouldon; "I thought you, with your stick, were going to catch more than any of us. There"s Bracebridge far ahead of you already; you"ll be beaten, old fellow."
"Wait a bit," answered Gregson quietly. "My fish have not begun to bite yet. I am thinking of trying the pond for an hour or so. I ground-baited it as I came by, and I have no doubt I shall catch something." Bouldon, who was the worst fisherman of the party, in consequence chiefly of his want of patience, accompanied Gregson in the hopes that he might benefit by the ground-bait.
"What is it you put in?" he asked. The young naturalist showed him some b.a.l.l.s which looked like b.a.l.l.s of clay with some red seams, but they were composed of clay and bran, and gentles, and red worms, and one or two other ingredients, which Gregson averred would attract all sorts of fish. "You must not interfere with my sport, but you shall have a spot to yourself; and I"ll answer for it before long that you will have plenty." Gregson himself, as he spoke, threw in his line, and as Tom looked on, caught several perch and roach in rapid succession.
"Oh, I can"t stand that; I must go and see what I can do," exclaimed Bouldon, moving on.
"Very well, just go a little on this side of that willow," said Gregson; "you will find a deepish hole there. Throw in your ground-bait, and before long you are very likely to get some bites. See; I"ve caught another. What a whacking big perch! Three pounds" weight, I should say. I"ll have him out soon; don"t stay for me, I can tackle him."
This success of Gregson"s made Bouldon still more anxious to be off to try and catch some fish. Hitherto he had got nothing. Having thrown in all the ground-bait he had got, he baited his hook with the full expectation of catching a basket-full. He cast in his line and stood patiently watching his float. It would not bob. He altered the depth of the hook several times; the worm wriggled, as at first, untouched.
He began to grow very impatient.
"This will never do," he muttered; "I must shift my ground till I find the fish more inclined to be caught." He looked round towards Gregson, who was pulling up fish as fast as he could. "His basket must be already nearly full, and I have not caught even a wretched gudgeon."
On this Tom went round the pond, throwing in his line here and there with the same want of success. At last he got a bite; "A big fish," he thought to himself. "I"m sure it is; hurra! perhaps my one fish may weigh as much as all Gregson"s and Bracebridge"s together." He hooked his fish, which after one or two tugs, poked his nose to the surface just to see who was at the other end of the line, which somehow or other had got hold of his lips.
"A grand, magnificent pike!" shouted Tom with delight, letting go his reel as the fish began to pull, and darted off into the centre of the pond. Bouldon stood ready to turn him as soon as he began to slacken his pace. Never had he felt so eager about catching a fish, for never had he held a bigger one at the end of his line. It would have been better for him had it been much smaller. There was a quant.i.ty of weeds in the pond; and numerous large flat leaves of the beautiful white water-lily floating near, moored to long tough stems, among which he was in a dreadful fright that the fish would get, when he felt sure it would contrive to carry line and hook and float away. The pike, if pike it was, seemed fully aware of the advantage it possessed, and darted about in every direction.
"The hook must have caught the very edge of the upper lip, or it would have bitten through my line long ago," thought Tom. "What can I do? I wish Gregson were here to help me. He would know some dodge to get this fellow on sh.o.r.e. I"m sure I don"t. Hillo! Greggy! Ellis! Do come and help me. Any of you fellows there?" He dared not for a moment turn his eye away from the water, lest the fish should take the opportunity of getting off.
"Hillo! does no one hear? Hillo, I say! Come, my good fellows, lend a hand to land this monster!" No one answered. The fish had run out with the whole of his line; the rod was bending almost double. He advanced to the very edge of the pond; he thought that he might give a little more scope by going to the right hand, where there was what he supposed to be a projection of the bank. So there was, but it was only of gra.s.s, and had nothing under it. He put his foot on it; the fish pulled harder than ever; he never dreamed of letting go his rod, and over he went, the impetus of his fall, and the pulling of the fish, carrying him a considerable distance from the sh.o.r.e. His head went under water, and he got a good quant.i.ty of it in his mouth; but at last he came up to the surface, spluttering and blowing, and trying to strike out, but still, like a true Briton, keeping fast hold of his rod. He now shouted out with all his might, his shout becoming a sharp cry for help, for he felt very truly that life was in imminent danger. The water was deep; he had thick heavy shoes and trousers on, and he could not make up his mind to lose his rod. For some time he positively swam away from the sh.o.r.e, not knowing what he was about, but fortunately at last he found out what he was doing, and tried to get back. His heart sank within him when he found how far off he was from the land. His clothes were pressing him down, and the long slimy stems of the weeds began to twist and turn round his legs. "Oh, I shall be drowned--I shall be drowned!" he cried out in an agony of fear. "Help--help!--help, oh help!" he shouted, struggling to keep himself above water. His eye looked on either side of the pond. He saw some one approaching the spot where he had stood, but coming leisurely, and evidently not aware that he had tumbled into the water. "Help, help;" he again shouted, and he felt that in another minute he must go down, for the more he attempted to approach the sh.o.r.e, the more his legs became entangled by the fatal weeds. He thought that he recognised the gaunt figure of Ellis.
"Oh, if it had been Bracebridge now! he swims so well, he might have got me out," he thought to himself; but he had very little confidence that Ellis would help him. Just then his last cry must have reached the ear of the person approaching, for he set off running towards the spot as fast as his legs would carry him. Bouldon began to hope once more that he might be saved. Then he saw that it was Ellis.
"Keep up, keep up!" shouted Ellis; "I"ll be with you." He disenc.u.mbered himself of his basket as he ran, and the moment he reached the spot he threw off his shoes and his jacket, and, rod in hand, having broken off the hook from his line, plunged into the water without an instant"s hesitation. All the time, however, he shouted, "Help! help! help!" He swam out bravely towards Bouldon, poking his rod before him till the end reached his struggling school-fellow. "Catch hold of this--catch hold of this!" he sang out l.u.s.tily. Bouldon heard him, but his senses were becoming confused, and he could not exert himself to reach the point of the rod. Ellis swam on still further, but he saw the weeds, and he knew that, should his legs once become entangled in them, he should be unable to help his friend, and should probably lose his own life.
"Oh! come nearer, come nearer!" gasped out poor Bouldon, making vain efforts to get free.
Ellis, against his better judgment, generously made the attempt. He instantly felt that he, too, was among the weeds. He tried to get back.
His only consolation was to see that Tom had got hold of the end of his rod. Ellis exerted himself to the utmost. Move forward he dared not; but throwing himself on his back, he lifted up his legs, and endeavoured to disentangle them from the weeds which were round them. At last he felt that he could strike out with them; and paddling with one hand at the same time, he gently pulled on his rod, so as to tow Bouldon towards him. The weeds had, however, got so completely round poor Tom"s legs, that Ellis found that he was not moving him.
"I"m sinking, I"m sinking!" Tom cried out.
Ellis struck away with all his might. "Hold on to the rod, whatever happens, that"s all," he cried out, tugging and tugging away. "I"m moving you, I"m moving you!"
So he was, but it was only so far as the weeds would allow him to go.
Tom had followed his example, and thrown himself on his back. Just then a shout was heard, and soon afterwards Ellis caught the words he had been himself using, "Keep up, keep up!--never fear!" He thought it was Bracebridge"s voice; so it was. He was up to them in an instant.
Now, Bracebridge, by his father"s advice, never went out on any expedition without a supply of stout twine. Producing some from his fishing-basket, he fastened one end of it to a drooping branch of the willow-tree, which overhung the pond, and the other on to his own rod, and, having thrown off his clothes, he boldly plunged into the water, knowing that the weeds would have much less power over his naked legs, than if he had kept on his trousers. He reached poor Tom with the end of his rod just as he was sinking. Tom grasped it convulsively, and Ernest holding on to the part of the line made fast to the tree had sufficient force to drag him out from among the weeds. Ernest, meantime, told Ellis to try and get to sh.o.r.e, so as to be able to help him to draw in Bouldon. Ellis was not long in doing so; and climbing up the bank, he hauled in the line Ernest had so thoughtfully made fast to the tree. In a short time, by careful pulling, Bouldon was hauled clear of the weeds, and Ernest was able to take hold of his arm, and to support him while Ellis towed them both up to the bank. By this time Bouldon was unconscious, but, notwithstanding, he still with one hand held fast hold of the b.u.t.t-end of his rod, and the rod had evidently something else at the other end of it. They drew him up the bank still holding on his rod.
The change of atmosphere from the warm water of the pond, perhaps, to the cooler air, revived him, and opening his eyes he looked up at Bracebridge.
"You, Ernest! I thought it was Ellis. Is he safe?"
"Yes, yes; all right, old fellow!" answered Ellis.
"Oh, thank you, thank you! Then do try and get my fish on sh.o.r.e," were the first words exchanged between the party when they had got safe to land.
"It"s a whacking big pike, that I know," cried Tom. "Oh! Bracebridge, don"t let him go; that"s all."
"I only hope no stranger will come near and find me, like a picture in the `Boy"s Own Book," fishing _in statu quo_," said Ernest, laughing, "But quick, Ellis, bring the landing-net; I shall have him directly, I believe."
There was a broad laugh as Ellis put the net under the fish--for fish there undoubtedly was. "Why, Tommy, your big pike has turned into a perch after all," cried Ernest; "a good-sized one though. But how did you come to fancy it a pike?"
"Because he pulled so horribly; and when I saw his big jaws above water, I thought nothing but a pike could possess such a pair of gills,"
answered Tom, with much simplicity.
Ernest and Ellis laughed heartily at Bouldon"s pike. Ellis took off his clothes, and wrung them dry, and a.s.sisted Tom, who was getting rapidly well, to do the same; and while Ernest put on some of his garments, he lent the remainder to clothe his companions, while theirs were drying.
They very quickly got their fishing gear to rights again, and were soon, as eager as before, engaged in their sport.
The disturbance they had made in the water had not frightened away the fish, and they each of them caught several large perch. When they at last got their clothes dry enough to put on, and worked their way up to where Gregson was fishing, they found that he had actually filled his basket completely full; fulfilling his promise that with his old stick, as he called it, he would catch more fish than all the rest put together. He bought his hooks, though he could make them; but the rod, line, and float he had entirely manufactured himself, as he had all the rest of the gear, and thus he certainly had reason to be proud of his achievements.
He was horrified when he heard how nearly two of his companions had lost their lives, while all the time he had been so close at hand. When, however, they were joined by Lemon and b.u.t.tar, and Bouldon described the way Ellis had come to his rescue, everybody was loud in their praises of him except Ernest. He said nothing at the time, but as they were walking home, he took Ellis"s hand, and pressing it warmly, remarked, "You have behaved very gallantly to-day, my dear fellow. I was certain that when the opportunity offered, you would do so. No one could have done better, or shown more coolness or courage. Had it not been for you, Bouldon would have lost his life; of that I am certain. He was almost gone when I came up."
"Why, Bracebridge, I considered that you saved both our lives,"
exclaimed Ellis, in a tone of surprise at hearing himself so praised.
"Had you not come up, we should both have been lost."
"Oh! I only used a little judgment, and followed one of the many bits of good advice my father has given me from time to time," said Ernest.
"I neither ought nor will take any of the credit which belongs to you; so pray, my dear fellow, do not talk of what I have done."
Ellis, however, argued the point; but Ernest took care that the way he had behaved should be thoroughly known and well understood by all the boys, as well as by the Doctor.
The fishing-party had a very pleasant walk home, and seldom had fuller baskets of fish been brought to the school.
That evening, after prayers, the Doctor called up Ellis, and, placing him on his right hand, said that he wished to compliment him, among all his companions, for his bravery and coolness, which had enabled him to have the inestimable gratification of saving the life of a fellow-creature, a school-fellow, and a friend; "and," added the Doctor, turning to Ernest, "I feel that you, Bracebridge, deserve not less credit for the generous way in which you have acted in the matter."
Ernest did not obtain less credit, and Ellis found himself in a very different position to what he had before held in the school.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
TRIALS OF EDWARD ELLIS--A GAME AT GOLF.
The summer holidays were over, and nearly all the boys had collected at school. Most of them loved their homes; but really our school was so pleasant a place, that very few regretted returning to it. Several new boys came. One of them was called Andrew Barber. He was somewhat of a noisy overbearing character, and showed from the first a strong disposition to bully, and to quarrel with those who did not agree with him. He had, however, a box full of valuables, and a couple of bats, a set of wickets, and two first-rate footb.a.l.l.s, and a set of hockey-sticks, so that with a pretty large cla.s.s he was rather popular.
Dawson very quickly made up to him, and Blackall condescended to allow him to cultivate his acquaintance. I write about him from recollection.
Perhaps when he first came, the defects I recollect in his character may not have been so apparent. Bracebridge came back quiet and gentlemanly as ever. He had not been idle during the holidays. It is extraordinary how much he had seen, and done, and learned. He had been reading pretty hard both Greek and Latin, and Mathematics. He had made a tour through the manufacturing districts, the commencement of a series his father promised to take him, to show him the true source of English wealth. He had had a very pleasant yachting expedition, and had learned a good deal more about a vessel, and how to sail her, than he had before known. He had become a proficient in archery, and had filled a book full of sketches. Then he had read through a History of France, and made a synopsis of the work, as well as two or three biographies; and he had fished and ridden, and botanised and geologised, and seemed to have seen and talked with a great number of interesting people. Even b.u.t.tar, to whom he gave this account of himself, was surprised; and yet b.u.t.tar was one of the hardest readers in the school.
"How I can possibly get through so much, do you ask?" said Ernest.
"Why, I will tell you. I am never idle. I always arrange beforehand what I want to do, and when I am at work, I give all my mind to that work, and never allow myself a moment to think of anything else. I have the gift, and a valuable one it is, I feel, of being able to concentrate my thoughts on the particular subject in which I am engaged, while I never allow them to be drawn off by anything else. I believe that my mind is so const.i.tuted that I should do this of my own accord; but my father has strongly urged on me the importance of the habit, and I accordingly practise it systematically. Whenever I find my mind wandering away from the subject on which I am engaged, I bring it back forcibly, just as if it were a truant, or a deserter from his colours.
Some people can think of two things at the same moment; but my father says it is much better to think of one thing well at a time, as likewise to do one thing well; so, as you may have observed, I never attempt more. The consequence of this system is, that I gain some credit, more or less, for nearly everything I undertake."