"He's got it right," Whitney laughed. "Come along and take your net. You'll have to carry it up the bank; the dinghy's loaded deep and the tide's still running out."
When they had dragged the net ashore, Marshall lighted a lantern and examined it carefully. Whitney, picking up the light, turned it on the fisherman's wrinkled face and was not surprised to see a twinkle in his eyes.
"What do you think of it?" he asked.
"It's gran' gear, but maybe, a bit heavy for flounders. I wouldna' say but the heid-rope would haud a shark."
"It's better to be on the safe side," Whitney said with a laugh. "When you set a net you can't tell what you're going to catch. That's why we brought you some iron pipes for the posts. Now you'd better show us where you want the net put up."
They went back and pushed off the dinghy while Marshall plodded up the bank abreast of them with the net on his shoulder. At a bend of the narrowing channel he hailed them.
"She'll do here—though I dinna' ken aboot the fishery board," he said, when they landed and gave him the iron posts. "Ye're no allooed to stop a through-running watter."
"I'll be responsible for that," Andrew told him.
"Then it would be a kind o' pity to leave yon gutter open," suggested Marshall, turning to Whitney. "A flounder-net in a runway only fishes on the ebb. Ye haul her up to the heid-rope when the fish come in with the flood, and let her doon when high-watter's past. Then a' that's gone by her canna' get back. Onyway, yon's the usual plan, but she'd maybe fish better here if we keepit her doon with lead and pulled her up afterwards wi' a heid-rope tackle."
"I was going to suggest something of the kind," Andrew said. "You'll want a boat, but there are two or three old punts on the beach. Hire whichever you like and I'll be accountable. But what about the trawler fellow who keeps the boat at the point?"