“Mornin’,” he answered. Then the hencoop was pulled over the side of the dory and rested across it, and Tom saw that instead of chickens it contained fish. It was fashioned of laths, was rounding on top, and at one end a funnel of netting took the place of the laths. “What do you call that?” asked Tom. “This? That’s a lobster pot. Never see one before?” Tom shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. I thought it was a hencoop.” The lobsterman chuckled as he undid the door of the trap and thrust in his arm. Out came a handful of small fish, which were thrown into a pail in the dory. Then one or two larger fish were tossed overboard, and last of all a fine big greenish-black lobster was produced. Tom paddled nearer and saw that a box in the dory was already half full of lobsters which were shuffling their claws about and blinking their protruding eyes. Another pail held fish for bait, and after the pot was cleared out new bait was placed in it and it was once more let down at the end of a rope. Tom now saw that the surface end of the rope was attached to a white wooden float. “Not much there, was there?” said the fisherman as he took up his oars. “You come over to the next one and I’ll show you some lobsters.” So Tom rowed after him a hundred yards or so and awaited with interest the appearance of the next pot. The prediction proved true, for when the pot came to the surface it looked to be swarming with lobsters. To Tom’s surprise, the first two or three that were taken out were tossed back into the water. “Aren’t those any good?” he questioned. “Best eatin’ there is,” was the reply, “but they’re ‘shorts.’” “What are ‘shorts,’ please?” “Young ’uns under ten inches long. Law don’t allow us to keep ’em.” There were a good many shorts in the trap, but there were also four good-sized lobsters, and the lobsterman seemed well pleased. “Do you sell them?” asked Tom. The man glanced across at him shrewdly. “‘Shorts,’ do you mean?” “Oh, no; the others.” “Yes; want to buy some?” “If you could let me have a couple, I’d like it.” The man held out two medium-sized ones. “Fifty cents,” he said. “All right.” Tom dived into his pocket, brought up the money and pulled up to the dory, where the exchange was made. “Guess you never see no hens like them afore,” chuckled the lobsterman as he rowed away. “An’, say, don’t pet ’em much; they might peck yer!”