The Weathercock Part 10

"It is the reed-mace."

"They'll do just as well by that name. I say, Distie, I want to cut some of them."

"Go on rowing," said Distin, haughtily, to Gilmore, without glancing at Macey.

"All right, my lord," muttered Macey. "Halloo! What was that? a big fish?"

"No; it was a water-rat jumped in."

"All right again," said Macey good-humouredly. "I don't know anything at all. There never was such an ignorant chap as I am."

"Give me the other scull, Gilmore," said Distin, just then.

"All right, but hadn't we better go a little higher first? The stream runs very hard just here."

Distin uttered a sound similar to that made by a turkey-c.o.c.k before he begins to gobble--a sound that may be represented by the word _Phut_, and they preserved their relative places.

"What are those leaves shaped like spears?" said Macey, giving Vane a peculiar look.

"Arrowheads."

"There, I do know what those are!" cried Macey, quickly as a shoal of good-sized fish darted of from a gravelly shallow into deep water.

"Well, what are they?"

"Roach and dace."

"Neither," said Vane, laughing heartily.

"Well, I--oh, but they are."

"No."

"What then?"

"Chub."

"How do you know?"

"By the black edge round their tails."

"I say!" cried Macey; "how do you know all these precious things so readily?"

"Walks with uncle," replied Vane. "I don't know much but he seems to know everything."

"Why I thought he couldn't know anything but about salts and senna, and bleeding, and people's tongues when they put 'em out."

"Here, Macey and he had better row now," cried Distin, suddenly. "Let's have a rest, Gilmore."

The exchange of position was soon made, and Macey said, as he rolled up his sleeves over his thin arms, which were in peculiar contrast to his round plump face:--

"Now then: let's show old pepper-pot what rowing is."

"No: pull steadily, and don't show off," said Vane quietly. "We want to look at the things on the banks."

"Oh, all right," cried Macey resignedly; and the sculls dipped together in a quiet, steady, splashless pull, the two lads feathering well, and, with scarcely any exertion, sending the boat along at a fair pace, while Vane, with a naturalist's eye, noted the different plants on the banks, the birds building in the water-growth--reed sparrows, and bearded t.i.ts, and pointing out the moor-hens, coots, and an occasional duck.

All at once, as they cut into a patch of the great dark flat leaves of the yellow water-lily, there was a tremendous swirl in the river just beyond the bows of the boat--one which sent the leaves heaving and falling for some distance ahead.

"Come now, that was a pike," cried Macey, as he looked at Distin lolling back nonchalantly, with his eyes half-closed.

"Yes; that was a pike, and a big one too," said Vane. "Let's see, opposite those three pollard willows in the big horseshoe bend. We'll come and have a try for him, Aleck, one of these days."

It was a pleasant row, Macey and Vane keeping the oars for a couple of hours, right on, past another mill, and among the stumps which showed where the old bridge and the side-road once spanned the deeps--a bridge which had gradually decayed away and had never been replaced, as the traffic was so small and there was a good shallow ford a quarter of a mile farther on.

The country was beautifully picturesque up here, and the latter part of their row was by a lovely grove of beeches which grew on a chalk ridge-- almost a cliff--at whose foot the clear river ran babbling along.

Here, all of a sudden, Macey threw up the blade of his oar, and at a pull or two from Vane, the boat's keel grated on the pebbly sand.

"What's that for?" cried Gilmore, who had been half asleep as he sat right back in the stern, with his hands holding the sides.

"Time to go back," said Macey. "Want my corn."

"He means his thistle," said Distin, rousing himself to utter a sarcastic remark.

"Thistle, if you like," said Macey, good-humouredly. "Donkey enjoys his thistle as much as a horse does his corn, or you did chewing sugar-cane among your father's n.i.g.g.e.rs."

It was an unlucky speech, and like a spark to gunpowder.

Distin sprang up and made for Macey, with his fists doubled, but Vane interposed.

"No," he said; "no fighting in a boat, please. Gilmore and I don't want a ducking, if you do."

There was another change in the Creole on the instant. The fierce angry look gave place to a sneering smile, and he spoke in a husky whisper.

"Oh, I see," he said, gazing at Vane the while, with half-shut eyes.

"You prompted him to say that."

Vane did not condescend to answer, but Macey cried promptly,--

"That he didn't. Made it all up out of my own head."

"A miserable insult," muttered Distin.

"But he had nothing to do with it, Distie," said Macey; "all my own; and if you wish for satisfaction--swords or pistols at six sharp, with coffee, I'm your man."

Distin took no heed of him, but stood watching Vane, his dark half-shut eyes flashing as they gazed into the lad's calm wide-open grey orbs.

"I say," continued Macey, "if you wish for the satisfaction of a gentleman--"