I don't mind; they
don't hurt me. Wait a bit, and, pretty little creeturs, you'll like
it."

"What! Like being bitten?"

"To be sure, sir. 'Livens you up a bit in this hot sleepy country; does
your skin good; stimmylates, like, same as a rub with a good rough towel
at home."

Rob gave vent to a surly grunt and jerked his line.

"I don't believe there are any fish here," he said.

"No fish! Ah! that's what we boys used to say o' half-holidays when we
took our tackle to Clapham Common to fish the ponds there. We always
used to say there was no fish beside the tiddlers, and them you could
pull out as fast as you liked with a bit o' worm without a hook, but
there was fish there then--big perch and whacking carp, and now and then
one of us used to get hold of a good one, and then we used to sing quite
another song.--I say, sir!"

"Well?"

"This here's rather different to Clapham Common, isn't it?"

"Yes," said Rob, "but it isn't what I expected."

"What did you 'spect, then? Ain't the river big enough for you?"

"Oh! it's big enough," said the lad, snatching his line in. "Didn't
seem like a river down behind there."

"Right, my lad; like being at sea, ain't it?"

"Yes, and it's all so flat where you can see the shore. An ashy, dusty,
dreary place, either too hot or too cold! Why, I wouldn't live at Monte
Video or Buenos Ayres for all the money in the world."

"And right you'd be, my lad, says Shadrach Naylor. Ah! Why, look at
that! Fish is fish all the world over. You don't expect they'll bite
at a bare hook, do you?"

"Bother the bait! it's off again," said Rob, who had just pulled in the
line. "It always seems to come off."

"Not it, lad. There, I'll put a bit o' meat on for you. It's them
little beggars nibbles it off.--There you are; that's a good bait.
Perhaps you may get a bite this time. As I says, fish is fish all the
world over, and they're the most onaccountable things there is. One day
they're savage after food; next day you may hold a bait close to their
noses, and they won't look at it. But you're hot and tired, my lad.
Why don't you do as others do, take to your sister?"

"My sister!" cried Rob, staring. "I haven't got one."

"I didn't say sister," said Shaddy, showing his yellow teeth; "I said
sister--nap."

"I know you did," grumbled Rob; "why don't you say siesta?"

"'Cause I don't care about making mouthfuls of small words, my lad."

_Splash_! went the freshly