The Classic Mystery Collection - Arthur Conan Doyle [5853]
"What is that?"
"More than likely he will shy at having anything to do with the case. He told my father he was going to retire and devote his leisure time to fishing - that being his great pastime."
"Humph! he can't be much of a detective if he wants to spend most of his time fishing," was Bartlett's comment.
"You're mistaken, Harry. My father, and other men too, considered him one of the greatest detectives in the world, even though he sometimes worksin a very peculiar and apparently uninterested man- ner." "All right then, Viola. If you say so, I'll look up this wonderful detective for you and get him to take hold of the case."
CHAPTER VI
BY A QUIET STREAM
Drooping willows dipped their pendant branches in the stream that foamed and rippled over green, mossy stones. In a meadow that stretched fair and wide on either side of the water, innumerable grasshoppers were singing their song of summer. On a verdant bank reclined a man, whose advanced age might be indicated in his whitening locks, but whose bright eyes, and the quick, nervous movements as he leafed the pages of a small, green-covered book, made negative the first analysis. A little distance from him, where the sun beat down warmly, unhindered by any shade, lolled a colored man whose look now and then strayed to the reading figure.
A glance over the shoulder of the reader, were one so impolite as to take that liberty, would have disclosed, among others, this passage on the printed page:
"But yet you are to note, that as you see some willows or palm trees bud and blossom sooner than others do, so some trouts be, in rivers, sooner in season; and as some hollies or oaks are longer before they cast their leaves, so are some trouts in rivers longer before they go out of season."
The gray-haired man closed the book, thereby revealing the title "Walton's Compleat Angler," and looked across the stream. The sunlight flickered over its rippling surface, and now and then there was a splash in the otherwise quiet waters - a splash that to the reader was illuminating indeed.
"Shag !" he suddenly exclaimed, thereby galvanizing into life the somnolent negro.
"Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah!" came the response.
"Hum! Asleep, weren't you?"
"Well, no, sah. Not zactly asleep, Colonel. I were jest takin' the fust of mab forty winks, an' - "
"Well, postpone the rest for this evening. I think I'll make some casts here. I don't expect any trout, my friend Walton to the contrary. Besides they're out of season now. But I may get something. Get me the rod, Shag!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel! Yes, sah!"
And while the fishing paraphernalia was being put in readiness by his colored servant, Colonel Robert Lee Ashley once more opened the little green book, as though to draw inspiration therefrom. And he read:
"Only thus much is necessary for you to know, and to be mindful and careful of, that if the pike or perch do breed in that river, they will be sure to bite first and must first be taken. And for the most part they are very large."
"Well, large or small, it doesn't much matter, so I catch some," observed the colonel.
Then he carefully baited the hook, after he had taken the rod and line from Shag, who handled it as though it was a rare object of art; which, indeed, it was to his master.
"I think we shall go back with a fine mess of perch, Shag," observed the fisherman.
"Yes, sah, Colonel, dat's what we will," was the cheerful answer.
"And this time we won't, under any consideration, let anything interfere with our vacation, Shag."
"No, sah, Colonel. No, sah!"
"If you see me buying a paper, Shag, mind, if you ever hear me asking if the last edition is out, stop me at once."
"I will, Colonel."
"And if any one tries to tell me of a murder mystery, of a big robbery, or of anything except where the fish are biting best, Shag, why, you just - "
"I'll jest natchully knock