“Yes, they would come to a knifing over a count of fish and yet give their schooners to a friend in 165 trouble. Too bad they ain’t better fishermen.”
“Yeah, ain’t it.”
Among Canadians and Americans the Frenchmen are held in contempt on account of their hooks, which are of soft metal and can be rebent and used again. The fish often get away with them, however, and these hidden hooks slit many a finger in dressing down.
The two comrades loitered along, watching the changing crowds, gay with their colored caps and scarfs. Some men were already in liquor, and all seemed to be headed in that general direction. Suddenly, as Code was about to urge Pete along, he gave an exclamation and stopped short.
“What’s the matter, skipper?”
“I wonder where he is now?” Code’s eyes were searching the crowd. “I saw him right over there.”
He pointed to a certain spot.
“Who? What? Are you crazy, Code?”
“’Arry Duncan, the traitor that ruined our bait. I’d have sworn I saw him. It came all of a sudden and went away again. But I guess it couldn’t have been anything but a close resemblance.” He laughed nervously. “Gave me the creeps for a minute, though.”
“Lor-rd!” shivered Pete, who had all the superstitions of the sea at his fingers’ ends. “Mebbe 166 he’s chasin’ us around fer wrongly accusin’ him. They do that sometimes, you know. He’s probably dead an’ that’s his sperrit, ha’ntin’ us.”