'It's no for that,' said Daft Sandy, as, with the painter of his boat in one hand, he gripped the stern of the skiff with the other.
Now Rob was angry. Many of the Erisaig people would still be watching their setting-out; and was it to be supposed that they had taken this doited old body as one of the crew? But then Daft Sandy was at this moment clambering into the boat; and Rob could not get up and fight with an old man, who would probably tumble into the water.
'Rob,' said he, in a whisper, as he fastened the painter of his punt, 'I promised I would tell ye something. I'll show ye how to find the herring.'
'You!' said Rob, derisively.
'Ay, me, Rob, I'll make a rich man of you. I will tell you something about the herring that not any one in Erisaig knows—that not any one in Scotland knows.'
'Why havena ye made a rich man of yourself, Sandy?' said Rob, with more good nature.
The half-witted creature did not seem to see the point of this remark.
'Ay, ay,' he said, 'many is the time I was thinking of telling this one or telling that one; but when I would go near it was always "Daft Sandy!" and "Daft Sandy!" and there was always the peltin' wi' the broken herring—except from you, Rob. And I was saying to myself that when Rob MacNicol has a boat of his own, then I will show him how to find the herring, and no one will know but himself.'
By this time the MacNicols had taken to their oars again; and they had pulled outside the harbour, the old punt still astern. Then Rob had to speak plainly.
'Look here, Sandy, I will not put ye ashore by force. But I canna have your punt at the stern of the boat. It'll be in the way of the nets.'