"Now come, Dr. Jimson," expostulated Colin. "Do you expect me to believe that?"
"Certainly, when it is true," came the reply. "The statement often has been made and then disbelieved, but there is plenty of scientific evidence now to arm its truth."
"Does it climb up to the top and crack cocoa-nuts?" queried the boy, still incredulously.
"Not quite that," his friend said, smiling. "I believe seven feet is as high a climb as is known, that being recorded officially by one of the staff of the Madras Government Central Museum. The creature usually only climbs during a heavy tropical rainstorm, and it is believed that the fish, accustomed to ascending tiny streams, is stimulated to climb the tree by the rush of water flowing down the bark. The gill cover is movable, and the spines of the ventral fins very sharp. It doesn't go up head first, you know, but sideways."
"How does the fish climb down, then?" queried Colin.
"Tumbles," was the laconic reply.
"And starts up again?"
"No, it usually hops sideways over land to a
mud-bank again, not to have another climbing fit until the next big tropical shower comes after a period of drought. But if you wanted to find out all the strange habits of fishes," continued his friend, as the schooner ran into New Bedford harbor, "it would take more time than one swordfish trip would give you."