"Just you wait till you've 'eard what 'appened, young sir," the old man warned him, "and then p'r'aps you'll be glad you weren't."
"All right," the boy prompted him; "go ahead."
"'E was plucky, though, this chap, so Israel told me, for while 'is 'and was cut with the line two or three times when the moray made a vicious rush, still 'e 'ung on and that's not as easy as it sounds. But in about 'alf an hour the fish was
seemin'ly done for and the New Yorker pulled 'im in, 'and over 'and, as easy as you please. Just as 'e got 'im to the gunwale, though, the moray gave an extra wriggle, and bein' afraid that 'e might get away agen, the fisherman gave a sudden pull and brought 'im on board without waitin' to stun 'im."
Colin grinned appreciatively.
"I've heard of a chap who got into trouble with a conger eel that way," he said. "But go ahead with the story."
"For about a minute or two, so Israel told me," the old man went on, "the moray stayed quiet at the bottom of the boat. Then 'e put up 'is 'ead, with its gleamin', wicked teeth, and looked first at Israel and then at the New Yorker. 'E next sort of shook 'imself all along the spine, to make sure 'e was all there, and began to squirm 'is way toward the stern."
"That was where the angler was?" queried Colin.
"Yes, sir; Israel was in the bow. 'E said the New Yorker didn't seem to take it in at first, but that 'e suddenly gave a yell, jumped on one of the thwarts, and grabbed the boat-'ook. The fish was an ugly-lookin' brute, from what I 'ear, and a
spotted moray over six feet long is as nasty a thing to face as anything I know of."