"Bah!" ejaculated the old man, stamping the butt of his rod in the water. "There, I've done with you both. You are a pair of young ravens, sons of the old ravens, who have their nests up on the stony cliffs, and you'll both grow up to be as bad and bitter as your fathers, and take to punching out the young lambs' eyes with your beaks. I've done with you both." "No, you haven't, Master Rayburn," said the lad softly. "I was coming to see you this evening, to ask you to go with me for a day, hunting for minerals and those stones you showed me in the old cavern, where the hot spring is." "Done with you, quite," said the old man fiercely, as he began to bait his hook with another worm. "And I say, Master Rayburn, I want to come and read with you." "An untoward generation," said the old man. "There, be off! I'm wasting time, and I want my trout, and _thymallus_, my grayling, for man must eat, and it's very nice to eat trout and grayling, boy. Be off! I've quite done with you." And the old man turned his back, and waded a few steps upstream. "I say, Master Rayburn," continued the lad, "when you said `Bah!' in that sharp way, it was just like the bark of one of the great black birds." "What, sir!" snapped the old man; "compare me to a raven?" "You compared me and my father, and the Darleys, all to ravens, sir." "Humph! Yes, so I did," muttered the old fisherman. "I didn't mean to be rude. But you reminded me: I saw one of them fly over just before I met you, sir. Do you know where they are nesting this year?" "Eh?" cried the fisherman, turning sharply, with a look of interest in his handsome old face. "Well, not for certain, Mark, but I've seen them several times lately--mischievous, murderous wretches. They kill a great many lambs. They're somewhere below, near the High Cliffs. I shouldn't at all wonder, if you got below there and hid among the bushes, you'd see where they came. It's sure to be in the rock face." "I should like to get the young ones," said the lad. "Yes, do, my boy; and if you find an addled egg or two, save them for me. Bring then on, and we'll blow them." "I will," said the lad, smiling.--"Don't be hard on me, Master Rayburn." "Eh? No, no, my boy; but I can't help being a bit put out sometimes. Coming down this evening, were you? Do. I'll save you a couple of grayling for supper--if I catch any," he added, with a smile. "May I come?" "Of course. Come early, my boy. I've a lot of things to show you that I've found since you were at home, and we'll plan out some reading, eh? Mustn't go back and get rusty, because you are at home. We'll read a great deal, and then you won't have time to think about knocking Ralph Darley's brains out--if he has any. You haven't much, or you wouldn't help to keep up this feud." "Oh, please don't say any more about that, Master Rayburn." "Not a word, boy. Must go on--a beautiful worm morning." The old man turned his back again.