holding up
the spoil of Wilkinson's rod.

"That's jest what they are, flabby, bony, white-livered, or'nary
suckers. Niggers and Injuns won't touch 'em, ony in the spring; they'd
liefer eat mudcats."

The lawyer tied his dug-out to the stake, while Ben, who informed him
that his name was Toner, got a willow twig with a crotch at the thick
end, and strung his fish on it through the gills.

"I guess you'd better fire them suckers into the drink," he said, but
Coristine interposed to save them from such a fate.

"They are my friend's catch," he said, "and I'll let him do what he
likes with them."

Then, attended by Mr. Toner, carrying the string of fish, suckers
included, he bent his steps towards the Maple Inn.

When they arrived, they found Madame standing in the doorway. She
admired the fish, and complimented Coristine on his success. He,
however, disclaimed most of them in favour of his friend, for whose
health and whereabouts he enquired with much earnestness.

"Ze pauvre Meestare Veelkeensen retires himselfa in ze chomber to
shongje his vet habillement vit datta o' Pierre. I 'opes he catcha no
cold."

"Better mix him a hot drink, Madame," said Mr. Toner.

"I 'ave fear, Ben, you lofe too moch hot dreenks," replied Madame.

"That's jest where you're out, Missus; I take my little tods cold."

"Hot or cold, you take nossing in our salon."

"Naw, not so long as I can get better stuff, real white wheat that ain't
seen the water barl."

The lawyer noticed this unguarded saying of Toner's, but this did not
hinder his asking if Madame had hot water, and could mix some real Irish
punch for his afflicted friend. Madame had no Irish, but she had some
good Scotcha veesky, which Coristine said would do, only, instead of
Irish punch, the mixture would be Scotch toddy. The toddy procured, he
sprang up-stairs, two steps at a time, meeting Monsieur Lajeunesse,
descending with an armful of wet clothes. Bursting into the room to
which the dominie had been led, he found him on a chair drying himself
by detachments. Already his upper man had been rubbed by Pierre, and
clothed with a shirt, vest and velveteen coat from his wardrobe. Now he
was polishing his nether extremities with a towel, preparatory to adding
a pair of gaudy striped trousers to his borrowed gear. Striding up to
him with a ferocious air, the lawyer presented the smoking glass,
exclaiming: "Drink this down, Wilks, or I'll kill you where you sit."

"What is