“You couldn't, though,” I grinned.
“Charlo beef,
The beef was tough,
Poor Old Hundred
Couldn't get enough!
“How many times have you gone home barefoot, with your stockings and your undershirt, in a wet knot, tied to your fish-pole?”
“Not many,” said he.
“What?” said I.
“It wasn't often that I wore stockings and an undershirt in swimming season,” he answered. “Don't you remember being made to soak your feet in a tub on the back porch before going to bed, and going fast asleep in the process?”
“If you put a horse hair in water, it will turn to a snake,” I replied, irrelevantly.
“Anybody knows that,” said Old Hundred. “If you toss a fish back in the water before you're done fishing, you won't get any more bites, because he'll go tell all the other fish. Bet yer I can swim farther under the water 'n you can. Come on, it isn't very cold.”
I looked hesitantly at the pool.
“Stump yer!” he taunted.