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So
then
they
all
went
up
to
the
Canal
bridge
.
The
idea
was
to
fish
from
the
bridge
,
but
the
line
was
not
quite
long
enough
.
"
Never
mind
,
"
said
Bobbie
.
"
Let
's
just
stay
here
and
look
at
things
.
Everything
's
so
beautiful
.
"
It
was
.
The
sun
was
setting
in
red
splendour
over
the
grey
and
purple
hills
,
and
the
canal
lay
smooth
and
shiny
in
the
shadow
--
no
ripple
broke
its
surface
.
It
was
like
a
grey
satin
ribbon
between
the
dusky
green
silk
of
the
meadows
that
were
on
each
side
of
its
banks
.
"
It
's
all
right
,
"
said
Peter
,
"
but
somehow
I
can
always
see
how
pretty
things
are
much
better
when
I
've
something
to
do
.
Let
's
get
down
on
to
the
towpath
and
fish
from
there
.
"
Phyllis
and
Bobbie
remembered
how
the
boys
on
the
canal-boats
had
thrown
coal
at
them
,
and
they
said
so
.
"
Oh
,
nonsense
,
"
said
Peter
.
"
There
are
n't
any
boys
here
now
.
If
there
were
,
I
'd
fight
them
.
"
Peter
's
sisters
were
kind
enough
not
to
remind
him
how
he
had
NOT
fought
the
boys
when
coal
had
last
been
thrown
.
Instead
they
said
,
"
All
right
,
then
,
"
and
cautiously
climbed
down
the
steep
bank
to
the
towing-path
.
The
line
was
carefully
baited
,
and
for
half
an
hour
they
fished
patiently
and
in
vain
.
Not
a
single
nibble
came
to
nourish
hope
in
their
hearts
.
All
eyes
were
intent
on
the
sluggish
waters
that
earnestly
pretended
they
had
never
harboured
a
single
minnow
when
a
loud
rough
shout
made
them
start
.
"
Hi
!
"
said
the
shout
,
in
most
disagreeable
tones
,
"
get
out
of
that
,
ca
n't
you
?
"
