The Poacher [antikvár]

PART I YOUTH C H A P T E R 1 I '1"HE wind blew straight up the river valley. It had freshened from the north-east : the direction of the sea. Sudden gusts of rain were coming down with it, light icy rain that was a little heavier than a sea-mist and a little lighter than snow. Luke Bishop stood on the river-path, staring at the water. The rain was freckling the water-surface finely, and the wind, blowing against the current, startled it here and there into a frenzy of little waves. They were like ripples of dark ice that repeatedly melted and froze and dissolved again into the flow of the stream. Luke stood with his head down. He was quite still. He seemed fascinated by the rain on the water and the endless rippling and smoothing of the soundless little waves. All the time the river-keeper was watching him. Luke saw it, without moving, from the corners of his eyes. His stare at the water was a mere pretence. He saw in reality neither the river nor the rain, but only the keeper, standing farther upstream, half concealed by a bush of hawthorn, beyond the bridge. He had been aware of the keeper for some time. Now he wondered if the keeper, in turn, knew that he was aware. And he stood still, a little apprehensive, trying to make up his mind. But the keeper did not stir. Finally Luke walked on, moving with a casual slouch, turning up his jacket collar with one hand. Along the river, beyond the keeper, a solitary heron had been flapping slowly above the white flocks of seagulls and the shallow patches of flood water. It began to come downstream, flapping heavily into the rain. Luke lifted his head to