ed
ashore--drowned?"

"Oh, father! Just as if it was likely!"

"Haw, haw!" laughed old Jonas, and it did not seem like a laugh, but as
if he were calling his son bad names. "You can manage a boat all of
you, can't you, and row and reef and steer? Get out. Books is in your
way, and writin', and sums, not boats."

"But father--"

"Hold your tongue. I don't want to lose my boat, and I don't want to
lose you. May be useful some day. Doctor wants his boy too, teach him
to make physic; and I ar'n't no spite again' young Duncan here, so I
dunno as I partic'lar wants him throw'd up on the beach with his pockets
full o' shrimps; so, No. Now be off. Go and look at the weir."

CHAPTER SIX.

A SEA-SIDE WEIR.

"It's of no good," said Bigley, as we tramped down over the rough sand
and pebbles. "When he says `no' he means it. We could have managed the
boat all right. I say, I'll get him some day to let Binnacle Bill take
us, and we'll buy some twisty Bristol for him, and make him spin yarns."

"But where's the weir?" I said, as we were getting close down to where
the sea was breaking, and where the fresh-water of the little river came
bubbling up from among the boulders after its dive down below, and was
now mingling with the salt water of the sea.

"Where's the weir?" cried Bigley. "Why, this is it."

"This?" said Bob, "why it's only a lot of hurdles." So it appeared at
first sight, but it was ingeniously contrived all the same for its
purpose; and in accordance with the habits of the salmon and other fish
that are fond of coming up with the tide to get into fresh-water, and
run up the different rivers and streams.

It was a very simple affair, and looked to be exactly what Bob had
said--a lot of old hurdles. But it was strongly made all the same, and
consisted of a couple of rows of stout stakes driven down into the
beach, just after the fashion of the figure on the opposite page, with
one row towards the sea, and the other running up beside where the
stream water bubbled up and towards the shore. In and out of these
stakes rough oak boughs were woven so closely, that from the bottom to
about four feet up, though the water would run through easily enough,
there was no room for a decent-sized fish to go through, while down at
the bottom all this was strengthened by being banked up with stones
inside and out, and all carefully laid and wedged in together, and
cemented with lime.

Now when the tide