"Is it?" said Ewing sourly. "That wee bit thing a remora? Then all I can say is that our ancestors and our historians are damned liars."
"Your criticism is not new, Sandy," observed Madame. "In the unkind light of positive evidence, tradition and history have a way of crumpling up. How do you use the beast, Willie?"
Willatopy explained that the sucker adhered to the plastron of a turtle, which could then be played by means of a long thin line fastened to the sucker's tail. For greater security a hole was bored through the sucker's back, a bit of string run through, and attached to the main line.
"Hum!" remarked Madame. "Painful for the sucker, isn't it?"
With the customary assurance of the sportsman, Willie claimed that the sucker rather enjoyed than otherwise the use to which its services were put. By a similar contention a worm loves to be impaled upon a hook.
"If we are quick," said Willie, "there will be time to cook a turtle for supper. Have you ever tasted turtle, Madame, real turtle?"
"So I have been assured," replied Madame cautiously.
"I don't expect, Madame," put in Ching, "that you have ever eaten turtle cooked in its own shell, native fashion."
"Never. Is it good?"
"Good! Good!" Ching sighed deeply. "If they eat food in Heaven that is the sort of food that they eat."