“Well, Thady, and suppose he does?”
“Why, thin, this is my plan:—let us fish for the crocodile, and make a show of him if we catch him.”
“Arrah! Thady! I didn't think it was in you. But what'll we do for a hook and line?”
“Haven't you your reap-hook and rope?”
“That's true, Thady, so I have; but by way of a bait—you know crocodiles ates man's flesh, Thady.”
“I know it: and it's the beauty o' my plan, that we've bait, hook, and line,—all the materials, without a penny expense.”
“Oh! I see:—faith I you're a genius, Thady:—you'd have me bait the hook with yourself.”
“Not a bit of it, Michael; I couldn't separate you from your hook;—I wouldn't like to part with my money, and why should I ask you to part with your hook?”
“But don't you see, Thady, I run all the risk?—may be I'll lose my property;—the crocodile may carry it off. If we're to be partners, you must risk a little as well as me. I'll be my hook and my rope, with all the pleasure in life, if you'll be yourself—if you'll let me tie you to them by the way of a bait.”
“Nonsinse, Michael! what good would I be? Sure he feeds upon blacks—the crocodile does; and, fair as I am, he wouldn't know I was good to ate. Now, as you've a fine dark complexion—”