e boy, who did not scruple about stepping into the shallows from time
to time, went on whipping away upward towards where one of the tors rose
in a chaotic mass of broken, lichen-covered, fragmentary granite,
apparently hiding in the distance the source of the little bubbling and
sparkling stream.

Sometimes, as the boy struck in unison with the rise, he missed his
fish, at others he hooked and held it till it broke away, and then again
he transferred another to his creel, as intent upon his sport as his
uncle was upon his pursuit, but still adding and adding to the contents
of the creel for quite an hour. Then, in an interval when the fish had
ceased to rise, the boy began to look downward, finding to his surprise
that he was quite alone and close up to the towering mass of time-worn
granite, many of whose blocks sparkled in the summer sun with crystals
of quartz, and specks of hornblende, and were rendered creamy by the
abundant felspar which held the grains together in a mass.

"I wonder what's become of Uncle Paul," muttered the boy. "Have I lost
him, or has he lost me? What stuff! One's only got to go down the
stream, and he's sure to be there somewhere, dipping for his
what-do-you-call-'ems--hydras and germs and buds, and the rest of them.
But oh, what a jolly morning it is, and what a jolly place Dartmoor is
now the sun shines! Not very jolly yesterday, though, when the wind was
sweeping the rain across in clouds and you couldn't see the tops of the
tors for the mist. Oh, but it is beautiful to-day. I do feel jolly!"

The boy let his light tapering rod fall into the hollow of his arm,
swung round his creel to the front, and, raising the lid, peered down at
his speckled prizes lying upon a bed of newly-picked bracken fronds.

"Why, there must be fifty," he cried. "There, I won't stop to count.
I'll catch a few more, and guess at fifty. That'll be enough for a nice
lot for tea and some more for to-morrow morning's breakfast. Uncle Paul
does enjoy a dish of trout. Humph! So do I. I suppose it's this
beautiful fresh air up among the tors, and the tramping. It was a good
long way up here from the cottage. I suppose it's that makes me feel so
jolly hungry. Oh, look at that now! Uncle would carry the wallet, and
he's got all the sandwiches. Never mind; I'll catch a few more of the
little beauties, and then toddle back to meet him."

But the boy did not begin to fish directly, but stood gazing round