"And it—it's sacrilegious, Shag!"
"Yes, sah, Colonel; 'tis that!"
"Well, tell him so, and give him a half dollar. Now don't disturb me again until we get to Colchester. How's the weather, Shag?"
"Well, sah, Colonel, it's—it's sorter—moist, Colonel!"
"Um! Well, it'll be better by to-morrow, I expect, when we go fishing.
And be careful of my rods when you take the grips off. If you so much
as scratch the tip of even my oldest one, I—I'll—well, you know what
I'll do to you, Shag!"
"Yes, sah, I knows, Colonel!"
"Very well. Give that boy a dollar. Maybe he never read Walton, and that's why he's so ignorant."
Colonel Ashley settled back in his chair, and, with unfurrowed brow, read on:
". . . you shall see or hear him leap at flies, then if you get a grasshopper, put it on your hook with your line about two yards long, standing behind a bush or tree where his hole is—"
Once more the colonel was happy.