One morning Dick, going down with Sam to inspect the night lines he had set in the waters of Trevanion Bay, discovered with surprise and annoyance that they had been cut. A day or two afterwards they found their boat, which they had drawn up as usual above high-water mark, bumping among the rocks half a mile up the coast. They did not report these occurrences, hoping that they were nothing but a mark of temporary ill-feeling and would soon cease. But when for the third time their lines were tampered with, Dick became seriously concerned. The fish they caught were a very important part of the provisions for the household. What was not required at once was salted and dried for consumption when fishing was over for the season. Without these constant supplies they would have to draw more largely on their pigs and poultry, which they were accustomed to sell. Dick was unwilling to impart his troubles to any one, and for several nights he and Sam kept watch, hoping that if the culprits were caught in the act, the fear of exposure would put a stop to their mischief. On three nights nothing happened: and yet, on the first night when they left the lines unguarded, the same fate befell them. "This is more than I can bear," cried Dick, in the morning. "I shall tell Petherick." Petherick was the village constable, who filled also the offices of sexton, bell-ringer, and beadle in the parish church. "Bless ’ee, you’ll waste yer breath," said Sam. "Old Petherick be a crony o’ Tonkin, and wouldn’ lift a finger against him, without it were murder or arson: and then he’d have to get the sojers to help him. Why, ’tis said he’ve let ’em keep the tubs in church-tower sometimes when the preventives have been smellin’ too close." "Well, we must put a stop to it somehow. I’ll tell Joe, and see what he has to say." Later in the day he went into the village to buy some new fishing tackle at a general-shop, where the folk could buy tea, sugar, cheese, needles, thread, letter-paper, bootlaces—in short, every small article they needed. On his return, he heard a hubbub proceeding from the village green, where wrestling-bouts, games of quoits, dog-fights, and other sports took place. In the midst was a duck-pond. Bending his steps thither to see what was going on, he beheld Sam with his back against a tree, sturdily defending himself with fists and feet against a crowd of the village lads, among whom the hulking form of Jake Tonkin was conspicuous. "Heave un in duck-pond," he heard Jake cry. "You’d better!" he shouted, rushing forward to assist his companion.