John Deane of Nottingham: Historic Adventures by Land and Sea. William Henry Giles Kingston

moon, often hidden by clouds, came out, and cast its light upon them. Sometimes also it showed groups of cattle lying down sleeping, or lazily chewing the cud, among the sweet herbage of the river’s side. No other living creature was in sight, so that Jack and his companion were not afraid of talking in their usual tone of voice. They kept, however, well under the shade of the trees.

      “Those are some of Mr. Strelley’s beasts, I believe,” said Jack: “a fine lot they are, too; they will soon be off towards Cambridge, and bring a good round sum at Stourbridge Fair. I wish I had the driving of them; and I should not mind the selling, either!”

      “Are they the highland cattle which Will Brinsmead bought for him at Saint Faith’s?” asked a voice, so close to the two speakers that they both started.

      “Come out into the moonlight, friend,” said Jack, boldly; “I don’t answer questions to a man that keeps out of sight.”

      The stranger stepped out from beneath the shadow of a row of beech-trees which grew on the bank close to the path which Jack and his companion were following. He was a broad-set countryman in appearance, habited in a well-worn but strong riding-suit, with leather leggings, a horseman’s jackboots, and a broad leathern belt, in which Jack’s quick eye caught sight of a pistol-barrel. He seemed considerably entertained by Jack’s challenge, and repeated his question with great good-humour, in an unmistakable Yorkshire accent.

      “You perhaps know as much as I do about the beasts,” answered Jack. “Some of them are Scotch, and well fed on these rich water-meadows, till they are nearly as valuable as the Leicestershire breed. I see a few down there which are real Herefordshire, too. And now may I ask who you are?”

      “Well, a fair answer deserves another in return. I am a Yorkshire cattle-dealer, at your service, just passing through Nottingham, and I walked out here to see if there was any thing likely to suit me, in case I chose to make a bargain to-morrow morning. I must be early on the road to Derby. I hope you are satisfied, young man. And now let me ask you what game you are after?”

      “To be honest with you, we came out to catch a salmon or two,” answered Jack. “There are some fine ones now and then down the stream a little way, though it is not often salmon come so far up the river. We shall have a boat here, which will carry us close up to the weir.”

      “Ah! I like that sort of thing!” said the Yorkshireman; “I have seen a good bit of such sport in my time. What now if I were to lend you a hand? With the leister we would soon have a fine one that way, and if we had a lantern ready, we might take a few by ‘sunning’ besides.”

      “Oh, yes! we shall be glad for you to come,” answered Smedley, before Jack could say any thing. “I should like above all things to see fish sunned.”

      “Well, then,” answered the Yorkshireman, “you and your friend here must give me your word to forget, if ever you should see me again, that you met me this night. On that condition I will show you some north-country sport—on that alone, mind. You,” he added, turning to Jack, “for I can trust you by the tone of your voice, must answer for your friends in the boat.”

      “Oh, yes! I will answer for them as I would for myself,” said Jack, who, forgetting his former good resolutions, was almost as eager as Smedley to witness the new style of sport which the stranger promised them.

      Just then the boat of which they had been talking came stealthily in sight, rowed by two other lads, much of the same age as Jack and his friend. The latter with the Yorkshireman quickly stepped into her, when without loss of time the boat glided again down the stream.

      “This is a friend we have picked up, who is going to show us some sport, Bligh,” said Smedley in a low tone of voice. “We can trust him, and he knows that he can trust us; so it is all right.”

      In a short time they entered the Trent, and quickly arrived at the weir, which was formed by large stones roughly laid together, so as to throw the water into a broad cascade, as it came tumbling over it to the lower reach of the river. Smedley was more inclined to be talkative than Jack or the other lads in the boat.

      “What are we to call you, master?” he asked of the stranger.

      “Call me Master Pearson; that is a good midland-county name enough,” he said with a low laugh. “You have not got a leister in the boat, have you? I have an idea, from the look of the place, that if I had one, I could catch you a salmon quicker than by any other way.”

      The leister of which Master Pearson spoke is a three-pronged fork used for spearing fish.

      “No,” answered Smedley; “none of us are good hands at using such a thing.”

      “Well, just pull in here to the bank, and I will see if I cannot get a stick which will answer the purpose,” answered Master Pearson.

      Without having to search long, he found a stake which had been driven into the stream to prevent drawing nets across it. The stick apparently suiting his fancy, with a piece of wire, with great dexterity, he in a short time manufactured a pronged harpoon. Balancing it in his hand, he seemed satisfied with his performance. Sitting down in the boat, he next took off his boots and long-skirted great coat, which he deposited on the seat, and then, tucking up his ample trousers, waded up to the weir, while the boat was still rocking some distance from it. Jack followed close behind him, and with delight saw a noble salmon glistening now and then in the straggling moonlight, and playing securely in the shallow water, but ready to dart out into the deeper part of the stream at the slightest sound. In another instant a crimson bubble came up to the surface of the water, showing with how unerring a hand the clumsy-looking weapon manufactured by Master Pearson had been struck home. At a signal the rest of the party came up to him to carry off their prize, while he continued looking about for another. They felt inclined to be rather annoyed at the ease with which the stranger had captured a fish which they would have thought it impossible to kill in the same way. Smedley at that moment declared that he heard sounds in the distance, which made him fear that the keepers were coming through the wood. “If we are not off we shall be getting into trouble,” he sung out.

      “Hoot, mon!” cried Master Pearson, loud enough to be heard through the brawling of the weir; “you have time enough to learn how to strike a ‘sawmon;’ but come, I will show you another trick, since we have joined company for the night.”

      Saying this, he returned to the boat, and, putting on his coat and boots, produced a small lantern from his capacious horseman’s pocket. With a flint and steel it was lighted, when, leaning over the side of the boat, he slowly moved the light along the surface of the water.

      “Now stand by with your nets,” he answered, “and you will soon pull up enough fish for your suppers.”

      As he spoke, the lads saw a number of small fish attracted by the light to the surface of the water; and, following his advice, in a short time a considerable quantity were caught.

      “This is not proper sunning,” he observed: “if I had had such a lantern as we use in the north, we should have caught far larger fish. It should be made watertight, and then, when lowered down close to the net, the fish are so eager to come and see the cause of the brightness, thinking, maybe, that the sun has come down to pay them a visit, that they swim right against the net, and are caught in great numbers. That is what we call sunning in the north.”

      “I heard a voice!” exclaimed Smedley, as Master Pearson ceased speaking. “There!—there again! It’s the keepers as sure as we are living men!”

      “Hold your tongue!” exclaimed Master Pearson somewhat sharply. “Here, give me the oars; we will soon distance the keepers, if so be that they are coming this way. You’re right, I believe, though.”

      Taking the oars in his hands, he sent the boat through the water at a rate she had seldom moved before. The noise of the oars attracted the keepers, who rushed down to the water just in time to see the boat turning a reach of the river. They hurried along the bank for some distance, shouting