"Come on," he cried; "I thought you didn't mean to come. I hate waiting in the dark." He led the way through the garden to the lower gate by the mill-yard, and then right along under the buildings to the huge shed built up over the wheel, which was turning rapidly to the hollow roar of the water descending the chute to pass into the many receptacles at the end of the great spokes, before falling with echoing splashes into the square, stone-built basin below. It was close to the exit here that a portion of the great shed had been devoted to the purpose of an eel-trap, which was most effective in warm, rainy times when the flooded waters were full of washed-out worms such as the fat eels loved, but for which they often had to pay very dear, for it came to pass that they were often carried by the swift waters into the great stone chute. Then, in all probability, their fate was sealed, for they would be borne along to the end, writhing and struggling in vain, only to be carried right over the turning wheel before falling into the great, square, stone opening below, where another rushing chute carried them onward into a stout, iron-barred cage whose bottom and sides were so closely set that only the very small could wriggle through. The larger collected in a writhing cluster just where an iron, cage-like door could be opened, and a basket held to receive the spoil. But this particular night, in spite of its promise, showed no performance. The little party, lantern bearing, descended a flight of steps, hardly able to make each other hear, so great was the echoing splash going on around, and stopped at the bottom in a dank, dripping, stone chamber, close to the floor of the iron cage. "How are you going to cook 'em, Mr Manners?" said Will, with his lips close to his companion's ear. "Some stewed, some spitchcocked, and the rest in a pie." "Then we're not coming to dine," cried Will, laughing, as he threw the light of the lantern upon the cage, where there was a wet gleam as something slowly glided round. "Oh, what a shame!" cried Josh. "Why, there's only one!" "Yes, only one," said Will, "and it isn't worth while to open this nasty, wet, slimy door for him." "Oh, but there'll be some more," cried Josh; "there's plenty of time. In about an hour there'll be as many as we can carry." "But we are not going to wait in this dreary hole," said Manners. "I don't enjoy eels when I've got a cold." "Oh, no," cried Will; "we will go and have a bit of a walk, and come down again."