"What, flying-fish, Quambo?"
"Oh, no, sah, de shark!"
"Well, Quambo," said Fred, "you can catch some for yourself, only you'll have to dine all alone when you have shark for dinner."
"When I a leetle boy," said Quambo thoughtfully, "I catchee plenty big shark—I and some oder nigger-boy, and two, tree, four nigger-men."
"Now for Quambo's story," cried Frank. "Heave round with your yarn, Quambo, lad."
"I lib along o' my ole mudder in Africa befo' I go to de States. On de Gold Coast dat were, gen'lem. Shark plenty value dere. Good fo' food and good for de skin, wot we cure and de white man buy.
"Plenty reef on dat coast, gen'lem. Well, we go close to de reef, all same's we were de night de big black head jump ober and swamp de boat. We go close to de reef. Den we hab one long strong rope wid a runnin' noose on de end o' he for to catchee de shark."
"Certainly, Quambo; but tell us the modus operandi."
"What ship's dat, sah?"
"I mean, how did you catch the beggars, Quambo?"