"Good for you, John," said Potter. "Good fur us all," replied Alf, "fur I gwine ter put dat feesh on ter cook ez soon ez I ken make er fire an' git him ready." "It is a pity we forgot to bring a frying pan," Potter remarked. "Doan need one, sah." "How are you going to cook him, then?" "You jest wait," said Alf, as he begun preparations for building a fire. When he had made the fire, he killed the fish and dressed it. "Are you not going to skin it?" Potter asked. "You jest wait erwhile, now. Neber seeb sech eatin' in yo' life ez we'se gwine ter hab." He dug some clay from a bank, poured water upon it, and begun to knead it. Then he took a piece of paper, wrapped the fish in it, and then put on a thick coating of clay. "See; now I gwine ter put him right yere in de fire, an' let him cook erbout two hours, an' den we'll crack his shell." They threw out their lines again, but the fish would not bite. "It ain't no use tryin," Alf declared. "Da ain't gwine ter bite till de water ginter fall." "Why did one of them bite?" Potter asked. "Caze he didn' hab ernuff sense ter know dat de water want fallin', sah. You mer jest put it down fur er fack dat when er feesh bites when de water's risin', he ain't got no sense." "We don't kere whuther they've got any sense or not, so long as they bite," John remarked. "You're right dar; plum right. I'd ruther know dat er feesh no longer den my han' would bite, den ter know dat one ez big ez me wuz smart ernuff ter preach. Wall, ef dat boy ain't dun fotch dat book wid him." "A good idea, John," said Potter. "We'll sit up there under that rock, and while the fish is cooking we will study our lesson." So intent was the boy in this, his initiative step in the pursuit of knowledge, that time seemed to take the wings of the sparrow-hawk and swiftly sail away. Alf called them to dinner. "See," said the negro, "all I had ter do wuz ter crack his shell. You axed me ef I want gwine ter skin him. See, de skin peels right off wid de paper. Openin' yo' eyes in 'stonishment, is you? Jest wait till you taste him. Set down on de rock, an' lemme he'p you ter er monst'ous piece. Sprinkle er little salt on him, dis way. Now, how do he go?" "Best fish I ever tasted, I must say." "Cose he is. All de flaber kep' in by dat clay." "If we had brought our guns along, we might have had some squirrels." "Not lessen we'd fotch de dog ter tree 'em." "Well, we might have brought the dog." "No, fur it's bad luck ter take er dog wid you er feeshin'. Dat's de reason I driv Ole Pete back. Tuck er dog feeshin' wid me wunst an' it want mo' den er week airter dat till I tuck de dew pizen in one o' my feet." "Not because you took the dog, Alf, but because you went in the dew."