220 WOODLAND, MOOR, AND STREAM 



had been favoured by the farmer as being a friend of 

 his son's ; others who crossed the planks had often 

 looked with longing eyes at the golden-green fish 

 rolling about and feeding in the summer evenings. 

 The pools were connected in places by water runs, 

 and the tench roamed from one to the other at 

 pleasure ; but the spot below the rough bridge was 

 the one most tempting to the workmen. As they sat 

 in the shade, close to the hayloft, one day, eating 

 their dinner, the question of a net was discussed, a 

 casting-net ; and, as their job would be finished in a 

 couple of days' time, the last day after dark was fixed 

 on for their little game. 



Ike, the carter's boy, had gone up in the hayloft 

 to put some nay down to the horses. Having done 

 that he had stretched himself on the sweet old clover 

 to have a five minutes' rest. There he overheard their 

 plan, and told his young master of it. The boy was 

 bidden to keep his mouth shut and to come to him 

 again about seven in the evening. The workmen's job 

 being completed, the young master invited them into 

 the kitchen to have some of the home-brewed. The 

 beverage being of the genuine malt-and-hop sort, and 

 of a generous quality, worked on their feelings, so 

 that they told him that if they could ever do anything 

 to oblige him at any time he had only to say the 



