“For my part,” said Jiggins, “I’ll go fishing. Who’ll come with me?”
“I will,” said Muckle.
“And I,” said Johnny Blue.
“I don’t think there’s any chance,” said Pat; “so I’ll stay here and fish for ails in the mud.”
Pat could never get rid of “a taste of the brogue,” which clung to him, and proclaimed his nationality.
Sammy showed no inclination to move; so the three went fishing, leaving him and Pat behind.
Pat then went into the woods and cut a long fishing-pole, after which he went fishing for “ails.” He had no success, but kept at it bravely for more than an hour, unwilling to give up. At last his patience was worn out, and he returned to the point. On his arrival there, Sammy was not to be seen.
Pat seated himself disconsolately on the shore, and watched the tide, which was now running out, for some time. Then his roving eyes were attracted by the baskets and trunks. To these he directed his steps, in the hope that something might be found there with which he could satisfy the cravings of his appetite.
He found most of the trunks empty. Some of the baskets were filled with plates, others with cups and saucers, others with knives, forks, and spoons. All these excited his disgust to an unmeasured degree. In one of them he found a ham-bone, the remainder of their last repast on the shore. This had nothing on it whatever—a fact which excited such indignation in Pat that he flung it into the water.
At last he came to the baskets containing the minerals. Opening these, he found a large number of parcels inside. Hoping that these would afford something eatable, he opened one or two of them, but found, to his unspeakable disgust, that they contained nothing but stones.