And Colonel Morse and
Kernin, I was amazed to find, hadn't been out for twelve
years, not since the day--so it came out in conversation
--when they went out together in Lake Rosseau and Kernin
landed a perfect monster, a regular corker, five pounds
and a half, they said; or no, I don't think he _landed_
him. No, I remember, he didn't _land_ him. He caught
him--and he _could_ have landed him, he should have landed
him--but he _didn't_ land him. That was it. Yes, I
remember Kernin and Morse had a slight discussion about
it--oh, perfectly amicable--as to whether Morse had
fumbled with the net or whether Kernin--the whole argument
was perfectly friendly--had made an ass of himself by
not "striking" soon enough. Of course the whole thing
was so long ago that both of them could look back on it
without any bitterness or ill nature. In fact it amused
them. Kernin said it was the most laughable thing he ever
saw in his life to see poor old Jack--that's Morse's
name--shoving away with the landing net wrong side up.
And Morse said he'd never forget seeing poor old Kernin
yanking his line first this way and then that and not
knowing where to try to haul it. It made him laugh to
look back at it.
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