the place that had wooed these two boys from their lessons, and here beside the big cascade we have found them again.
Jamie had tried twice to reach the ledge behind the falls, by climbing along the face of the rock, and clinging to the ivy roots, but there was no foothold.
"It's no use," said Jack, "there's only one way to get there, and that is by swimming. We can easily duck, when we come to the fall."
"Then we'll try it, for I'm already wet through, what with the spray from the falls, and sitting down in the stream."
They quickly divested themselves of their clothing, plunged in, swam across the pool, ducked under the cascade, and reached the narrow ledge, which was the object of their immediate ambition, and within a quarter of an hour they had succeeded in capturing half-a-dozen fine trout, by the process known as "tickling," and as they caught them, they flung them far out on the bank.
Then they swam back, and after drying themselves in the warm rays of the sun, they dressed, and prepared to cook their afternoon meal.
An armful of twigs and broken branches, a bit of dry grass–these were quickly gathered. Then Jack struck a spark with his tinder-box, and there was a fire! Now the blue smoke was curling upwards, and hanging like a wreath over the tree-tops. Alas, that fatal smoke! This it was that betrayed them, and was the means of changing the whole course of their lives, for other eyes had seen it from afar, and were hastening to the spot.
In later days, amongst the backwoods of another continent, when their nearest neighbours were a scalping party of Algonquins or fierce Iroquois, they learnt to be more careful about that thin column of blue smoke which rose from their evening camp-fire.
But at present they were unconscious of any such danger. The feeling that they were most conscious of at this moment was one of hunger somewhere amidships, for their outdoor exercise, and above all, the cold dip, had given them healthy appetites. As soon, therefore, as the fire had burned sufficiently clear, they laid the spoils of the chase across a rude grid, made of a few wet sticks.
Then the savoury smell of roasted trout filled the wood, and when this delicate repast was ready, our two young heroes feasted sumptuously on the royal dish of red-spotted trout. When they had finished their repast, they washed it down with a copious draught of cold water from the stream.
"There goes the old magpie back to her nest. I wonder if the young ones are hatched yet. I'm going aloft to see," said Jamie, and he immediately began to climb the tall, straight fir-tree, which stood on the very edge of a steep slope, about twenty yards away.
When he had shinned some fifteen feet up the trunk he was able to clasp the lowest branch, and in another minute he had ascended to the very top of the tree, and was swaying dangerously amongst the slender twigs where the magpie had built her nest.
"How many young ones are there?" called Jack from the foot of the tree.
"Three and one egg left."
"Good! Bring the egg down. It's no good to the old bird now. It's sure to be addled. Bring it down–you know we promised to get one for Tiny Tim the lame boy, who can't climb."
"Why, what's the matter? Anything wrong?"
"Sh! Sh!"
Jamie was signalling desperately from the tree-top to his companion below, and pointing across the stream, beyond the camp-fire.
"Who is it?" asked Jack, in a hoarse whisper.
"Old Click, I do believe–and–Beagle!"
"Snakes alive! What now?"
"Better come up the tree. Quietly now."
Jack was just as expert at climbing as Jamie, and never sailor-boy shinned up the truck to the mast-head more quickly or more neatly than he did up that tall fir-tree. In another moment they were both perched aloft, and hidden amongst the branches.
The two men had seen the smoke from the distance, as it ascended above the trees, and suspecting either trespassers or poachers, they had crept quietly down to the place, and had reached the neighbourhood of the fire, soon after the boys had left the spot.
Imagine the feelings of the latter, as from their lofty perch they looked down upon their two bitterest enemies, only a stone's throw away, and effectually cutting off their retreat. Only a fortnight before, they had been hauled before the magistrates for this very same offence, and it had required all the influence of Jack's father to protect the youngsters from the penalty of the law.
"The young vagabonds–" Old Click was saying, as he kicked aside the embers of the fire.
"Look! Here be the heads of six foine trout they have stolen," said Beagle.
"I don't know whether be the worst–Squire's son or the poacher's son; but this I know, they be both framing for Wakefield gaol, or else the gallows."
"How do ye know it be they, Mr. Click?" asked the constable. "There be noa evidence that I con see, as yet."
"How do I know? Why, there ain't another rascal in the village who dare come into the woods and touch either fish or game since Jem Mason was transported. Nobody dare do it, 'cept these two vagabonds, who are the plague o' my life."
"Aye, the place is wunn'erfully quiet sin' I copt Jem at his old tricks," said Beagle, straightening his shoulders, as he recalled that stirring incident, in which, however, he took a very small part.
"And I do think, constable, that you ain't done your duty lately, to let these two rascals play the pranks they ha' played."
"What's that you say, Mr. Click?" said Beagle, rather testily. "What have they done?"
"Why, 'twas only last Friday that Gaffer John had a dead cat dropped down his chimney, when he was just cooking his supper, too, and it was all spoiled. And who was it that fired Farmer Giles's hayrick, but these same 'gallows-birds'? The young varmint!"
"First catch your man, Mr. Click, and then you'll have evidence 'red-hot' that a bench of magistrates will look at."
"Do you hear that, Jamie?" whispered Jack. "They're on our scent for dropping that dead cat down 'Surly John's' chimney. He deserved it, too, the skulking old miser, for turning poor old Betty Lamb out of her cottage. I'd do it again. But fancy blaming us for firing that hayrick! Surely he can't mean it!"
"I'll tell you what, Jack. This place is getting too warm for us. Let's run away and go to sea, as we always said we should."
"Chance is a fine thing. Wait till we're out of this hole. Wish we'd the chance to run now, but if we stir they'll see us."
At this point a shrill whistle rang through the woods and startled them, and before they had recovered from their surprise, the deep bay of a hound was heard approaching from the distance.
"Phew–" The boys looked at each other, and for a moment their faces blanched, as in an undertone these words simultaneously escaped from their lips.
"Old Click's dog–"
"We're up a tree now, Jack, in more than one sense." And they were, for they both knew the reputation of this wonderful hound. He could track a poacher for miles, and having once got the scent, he rarely let it go till he had run his victim down. Nearer and nearer came that deep bay, and soon the trampling of the shrubs and undergrowth gave notice of its arrival.
"Here, Charlie.
