“Sinews of whipcord,” he said, in a voice thin as his lips, “and hearts of cats! What tomfoolery now?”
My brother raised his head, yawning lazily.
“Tom Fool hisself,” said he.
“I am not,” said the newcomer, “near such a fool as I look. I can tell the likeliest place for tickling trouts, now, anywhere.”
Jason grunted.
“And that’s the Itchen,” went on the other with an enjoying chuckle.
We vouchsafed him a patronizing laughter.
“Too good,” he said; “too good for lob worms and sand-hoppers. Where’s the best place to find trouts, now—the little speckled trouts?”
“Where?” said I.
“Caught!” he cried, and pounced upon Jason.