"'Oh, no, sir,' I hastened to say.

"Then Joe advanced.

"All three soon got talking in quite a neighbourly kind of way, and the conversation naturally enough turned upon sport.

"'We haven't done much this forenoon,' I said.

"'Ah! then why don't you catch trout?'

"Just at that moment fire seemed to flash from Joe's yellow eyes. His nose was turned towards the stream; he was crouching low with his tail all a-quiver. Next minute he had left the bank and disappeared with a splash in the water.

"I was thunderstruck. So was Warlock. But Joe crept up the bank again almost directly, with a beautiful crimson-dotted yellow trout in his mouth.

"This he placed at my feet as a love-offering. Then he shook himself once or twice, and seemed quite pleased to see me enjoy the trout, the head and tail of which I gave to Warlock.

"'Delightful, isn't it?' he said.

"'Delicious!' I replied.

"'I've been a fisherman for over five years. You see, my late master had always been a disciple of Walton's, and when only a kitten I used to sit and sing beside him, when packing his luncheon for the river's side.

I jumped up when he took down rod and basket, and would trot off with him all the way to the river. How eagerly I used to watch the skimming fly, and my master can make a lovely cast, and I couldn't help being all of a tremble, and squaring my mouth, and emitting little screams of delight, when a fish rose to nibble; then when one was caught and thrown on the bank, nothing could prevent my jumping on it and killing it with blows of my paw. I did not put a tooth in it because master always fed me well, and I knew there was luncheon in the basket for me as well as for him.

"'But I soon learned to catch fish myself, and now I not only spring on them as you saw me do just now, but where the stream is shallow, I fish as I have seen schoolboys do; for lying down on the bank I stretch my paw far in under it, and very often hand out a trout.'

"'How clever!' I said.

"'It is wonderful!' said Warlock.

"'Well,' said Joe, 'you can do the same.'

"'Can I?' asked Warlock.

"'No,' said Joe smiling. 'You're only a dog, you know, but you can sit on a hillock, and watch and warn us if you see any fiend-boys coming along with catapults.'

"So, as Joe's late master had been a disciple of Walton's, I became a disciple of Joe's. I think, Shireen, that I have proved a very apt pupil, though not quite as good yet as Joe. For Joe takes to the water like an Irish spaniel, and he told me that he often caught eels and also water rats.

"My fishing lessons have been an advantage to me and to Warlock too, because previously I used to be rather afraid of the water, and more than once when Warlock and I were out hunting, and he swam over a stream, I had to go miles up or down till I found a bridge. But now I leap in just as Warlock does, and swim to the other side."

Shireen got up and stretched herself now.

"I'll go on with my story another night," she said.

Then she jumped upon Colonel Clarkson's knee.

"How fond that cat seems to be of you," said Ben.

"Ah! yes, poor Shireen! She dearly loves both me and my wife. As for Lizzie and Tom, well, she adores them. But Tom here is such a good lad, and never pulls her about, for I have told him that p.u.s.s.y is very old, and, heigho! I daresay we'll miss her some of these days."

"But we can lift Tabby, can't we, uncle?" said Lizzie.

"Well, I do think Tabby rather likes being teased just a very little, and I'm sure she would stand from you, Lizzie, treatment she would soon resent if Uncle Ben or I were going to resort to it."

"Getting late," said Uncle Ben, starting up. "But," he added, "somehow when the wind roars as it does to-night, and takes my thoughts away back to the stormy ocean, I cannot help talking."

"Won't c.o.c.kie get wet?" said Mrs Clarkson. "Hadn't you better leave him here to-night?"

"Bless your innocence, my dear Mrs Clarkson, the bird would break his heart."

"Coakie wants to go home!" cried the c.o.c.katoo.

It will be observed that the bird called himself _Coakie_, not c.o.c.kie.

But Ben produced a big red handkerchief, and simply tied c.o.c.kie up as if he had been a bundle of collars going to the wash.

He placed the bundle under his arm, bade everybody good-night, then walked boldly forth into darkness and storm.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

"AWAY, LIFEBOAT'S CREW!"

The house where the Clarksons dwelt, with the two dear little orphans Lizzie and Tom, and to which Uncle Ben so often found his way, was a fine old place. It stood high on a great green brae, not far from the forest and sea, and had been at one time a real castle, for our friends only occupied the more modern portion of it. All the rest was in ruins, or nearly so.

It was within sound of the roar of a cataract, which could be heard ever and ay in drowsy monotony, except on stormy nights, when the wild wind, sweeping through the tall dark pine trees that grew on a beetling cliff top behind the ruin, quite drowned even the voice of the linn.

It was a rare old house and ruin for cats and children to play about; for there was not only quite a jungle of cover for birds of every sort, but the ivy itself that covered some of the st.u.r.dy grey walls gave berth and bield to more than one brown owl.

It was perhaps the noise made by the owls that gave rise to the notion, ripe enough among the peasantry, that the old Castle was haunted.

Lizzie and her brother both believed in this ghost. They made themselves believe, in fact, because it was romantic so to do.

There were fine old-fashioned walled-in gardens and lawns to play in besides, so that on the whole it was a kind of ideal place.

There was one peculiarity about the lawn that I should tell you of. The Colonel would not have it kept closely shaven, he loved to see the daisies growing thereon, and many a pink, crimson, or yellow nodding wild flower as well.

So all the summer long it was beautiful, and even in autumn too.

Lizzie and Tom were such gentle children, that none of the creatures of nature which visited the lawn, seemed to be one whit afraid of them. In fact, they--the children--were part and parcel of all that was beautiful in nature around them.

The mavises sang to them nearly all the year through, sometimes even in snow time. So did c.o.c.k-robin, because he was always fed, even in summer. Lizzie and Tom knew where his nest was in a bank of wild roses, and robin appeared rather pleased than otherwise to have them come quietly round and take a peep at his yellow-throated gaping gorblings of youngsters.

"It takes me all my time," c.o.c.k-robin told Lizzie, "and all my wife's time too, to feed them. Oh, they do eat and eat and eat to be sure. It is just stuff, stuff, stuff all day long; one beetle down the other come on, so that I haven't time to sing a song to you. But wait till winter comes, and the youngsters are up and away, and won't I just sing!"

There was a saucy rascal of a blackbird that used to run about on the lawn gathering food, quite close to the children. When Shireen, Tabby, and the rest were there the blackbird used to come even closer, in order that he might nod his head and scold the cats.

But d.i.c.k would cry "Eh? Eh? What d'ye say? What is it? You r-r-rascal!" and sometimes even fly down to offer him battle.

There was no song more sweet in the summer evenings however, than blackie's.