“Yes, and I’m going to be a mining engineer,” said Dick. “I say, I wish I was a fisherman—boy, I mean!”
“And I wish I was going to be a mining engineer,” said Will, smiling sadly.
“Why, it isn’t half such fun!” cried Dick. “You have to learn all sorts of stuff about rocks and strata, and chemistry, and mechanics, and hydro-all-sorts-of-things. I say, do you ever see sharks down here?”
“Not very often,” said Will. “I never did see one. Josh hooked one once with his gaff, after it had taken a conger bait.”
“Oh, did he? Tell me all about it.”
“There isn’t much all to tell,” replied Will. “Josh was out in the boat, fishing off the rocks with a mate—out yonder, where you can see the cliff with the white patch on the top—Poldee.”
“Yes, I see.”
“Well, they couldn’t catch a single conger, and they were going to give it up, when Josh’s mate had a bite; and when he began to pull up, he thought it was a conger, but only a very small one; and then, when they got it to the top of the water they stared, for it was—how much do you think?”
“Forty feet!” cried Will eagerly.
“No, no!” said Will smiling; “they thought it was about six.”