86 AN ANGLER'S SEASON 



A stableman was crossing the yard of 

 the homestead. I shouted. He stopped, 

 and looked. I shouted again ; but he did 

 not come. He disappeared ; then was 

 immediately, with another stableman, 

 back to where he had stood. I waved a 

 beseeching arm, and beckoned by a back- 

 ward movement of the head. At length 

 the two rustics began to approach. They 

 were eminently cautious, and took their 

 own time in coming. They kept at a 

 discreet distance when they reached the 

 bridge, and when I had spoken they were 

 mute. By a motion of the free hand I 

 directed their gaze to the tense rod, and 

 to the trout, which was hop-skip-and- 

 jumping among the surge at the foot of 

 the cascade ; but the sporting aspect of 

 affairs seemed not to interest them. 

 Having looked at the fish for a few 

 seconds, they turned their eyes again 

 upon myself, and grinned. 



"Could you find Lord Stanley?" I 

 asked, making a gesture to indicate where 

 he should be looked for. 



