"I haven't caught half as many as you have, either of you," said Ford, when he saw with what even-handed justice the fish were divided in three piles, as they were scooped out of the fish-car.
"What of that?" replied Dab. "We follow fishermen's rules, down this way. Share and share alike, you know. All the luck is outside the boat, they say. Once the fish are landed, your luck's as good as mine."
"Do they always follow that rule?"
"The man that broke it wouldn't find company very easily, hereabouts, next time he wanted to go a-fishing. No, nor for any thing else. Nobody'd boat with him."
"Well, if it's the regular thing," said Ford hesitatingly. "But I'll tell who really caught 'em."
"Oh, some of yours are right good ones! Your string'd look big enough, some days, just as you caught 'em."
"Would it?"
"Yes, it would. Don't you imagine we can pull 'em in every time like we did this morning,—crabs nor fish."
"No, I s'pose not. Anyhow, I've learned some things."
"I guess likely. We'll go for some more next week. Now for a tug."