They had been lucky with their lines and bait. On the rocks beside them lay two or three small codling, a large flounder, two good-sized lythe, and nearly a dozen saithe. Rob got hold of these; washed them clean to make them look fresh and smart; put a string through their gills, and marched off with them to the village. He felt no shame in trying to sell fish: was it not the whole trade of the village? He walked into the grocer's shop. 'Will ye buy some fish?' said he, 'they're fresh.' The grocer looked at them. 'What do you want?' 'A ball of twine.' 'Let me tell ye this, Rob,' said the grocer, severely, 'that a lad in your place should be thinking of something else than fleein' a dragon.' [2] 'I dinna want to flee any dragon,' said Rob, 'I want to mend a net.' 'Oh, that is quite different,' said the grocer; and then he added, with a good-natured laugh, 'Are ye going to be a fisherman, Rob?' 'I will see,' Rob said. So he had his ball of twine--and a very large one it was. Off he set to his companions. 'Come away, boys, I have other work for ye. Now, Nicol, my man, ye'll show us what ye can do in the mending of nets. Ye havena been telling lies?' Well, it took them several days of very hard and constant work before they rigged up something resembling a small seine; and then Rob affixed his guy-poles; and they went to the grocer and got from him a lot of old rope on the promise to give him a few fresh fish whenever they happened to have a good haul. Then Rob proceeded to his fateful interview with Peter the tailor. Peter was a sour-visaged, gray-headed old man, who wore horn-rimmed spectacles. He was sitting cross-legged on his bench when Rob entered. 'Peter, will ye lend me your boat?' 'I will not.' 'Why will ye no lend me the boat?' 'Do I want it sunk, as ye sunk that boat the other day? Go away with ye. Ye're an idle lot, you MacNicols. Ye'll be drooned some day.' 'We want it for the fishing, Peter,' said Rob, who took no notice of the tailor's ill-temper. 'I'll give ye a shilling a week for the loan o't.' 'A shilling a week!' said Peter with a laugh. 'A shilling a week! Where's your shilling?' 'There,' said Rob, putting it plump down on the bench. The tailor looked at the shilling; took it up, bit it, and put it in his pocket. 'Very well,' said he, 'but mind, if ye sink my boat, ye'll have three pounds to pay.' Rob went back eager and joyous. Forthwith, a thorough inspection of the boat was set about by the lads in conjunction; they tested the oars; they tested the thole-pins; they had a new piece of cork put into the bottom. For that evening, when it grew a little more towards dusk, they would make their first cast with their net. Yes; and that evening, when it had quite turned to dusk, the people of Erisaig were startled with a new proclamation. It was Neil MacNicol, standing in front of the cottages, and boldly calling forth these words: