"Why, and didn't I say so? To be sure, I'm telling you how in years gone by——"
"Go on!" the lad waved his hand. "A cobbler, eh? or a tailor? or what are you?"
"I?" Chelkash queried, and after a moment's thought he said:
"I'm a fisherman."
"A fisherman! Really? You catch fish?"
"Why fish? Fishermen about here don't catch fish only.
They fish more for drowned men, old anchors, sunk ships—everything!
There are hooks on purpose for all that."
"Go on! That sort of fishermen, maybe, that sing of themselves:
"We cast our nets
Over banks that are dry,
Over storerooms and pantries!"
"Why, have you seen any of that sort?" inquired Chelkash, looking scoffingly at him and thinking that this nice youth was very stupid.
"No, seen them I haven't! I've heard tell."
"Do you like them?"