“You’ll have to slice off the big steaks first, Mose, and chop up the rest for the chowder,” concluded Fred.
Never doubting the sincerity of the orders given, Mose went back to find a huge pan and the butcher-knife. With his sleeves rolled up and a heavy burlap apron tied about his waist, he came prepared to clean the monster fish.
While every one stood about grinning, Mose started in to cut off the end where the beak grew; but saw as powerfully as he would, the knife made no impression on the tough hide.
“Ah d’clar’ t’ goodness, Mis Remin’ton, how you-all eber goin’ t’ chaw dis elerphant fish?” worried Mose, as he stood up to mop the moisture from his perspiring brow.
A shout of laughter from the circle of hoaxing islanders made Mose glance quizzically at them.
“Ha! that was one on you, Mose,” exclaimed Billy gleefully.
“Nem-mine, you Indians! Mose got all summer, yuh know, an’ Ah’m gwine git eben wid yuh yit!” prophesied the jolly cook, brandishing the fearful knife as he trudged away toward the bungalow, leaving the laughing crowd standing by the fish.
“We’ve got to keep it some way until Uncle Bill comes,” suggested Fred, looking about the cove for a possible place to anchor the mola.
“Why, when is Uncle Bill expected?” asked Elizabeth Remington, Fred’s fifteen-year-old sister.
“Not for ten days yet, and really, boys, it will be impossible for you to keep this curiosity near Sunset as long as that! You will have to tow it out for the tide to carry far, far away for more reasons than one, before your uncle arrives,” advised Mrs. Remington.