“And went out with my boatman. We caught thirty of the biggest bass you ever saw—”
“Ever saw or ever expect to see,” broke in his friend.
“And we were just going ashore to cook our dinner—”
“But when and where did you have breakfast? You’ve got ahead of your story. Tell me about the breakfast. I haven’t recovered from the shock of thinking of you as being up before that was ready.”
“And just before we landed, I was beginning to reel in my line. I had out about a hundred and fifty feet, when all at once—”
“What, what? Oh, don’t keep me in this suspense, I can’t bear it,” again interrupted his irreverent friend, striking an attitude of eager attention as he spoke.
“I had a strike that almost yanked my rod out of my hand.”
“Ah, yes, I see, your hook had caught on the bottom.”
Jock flung a book at the head of his friend and then laughingly said: “Well, you just wait till we get into camp, that’s all I can say. If you don’t tell bigger stories then than I can now, it will be because language has failed you.”