THE VINTAGE
it," she said, "but we must not go too often. But if you care to, you can come to the wall in fine weather always, and I will tell you whether it is possible. And, Mitsos, next time we go out bring your spear and resin, and let me see you fish. I should like to see you do that. Do you catch many?"
"The devil fly away with the fish!" said Mitsos. "I would sooner talk to you."
"How funny! I would sooner you fished; and, you see, we can talk, too. Will you let me help?"
Mitsos took up one of her hands again.
"It would be a heavy net you could draw in!" he said. "You have never felt the tug of a shoal."
"A whole shoal?" asked Sulecima. "How many fish go to the shoal?"
Mitgos laughed. "Fifty for each of your fingers," he said, "and a hundred to spare. Sometimes they all swim together against the net, and though they are very little, many of them are strong, and pull like a horse. I cut my finger to the bone once against the net-rope. Look, here is the mark."
He held up his great brown hand, and Suleima traced with her little finger a white scar running up to the second joint of his forefinger.
"How horrid!" she said, concernedly, still drawing her finger up and down his. "Did it bleed much?"
"Half a bucketful. I must put the boat on the other tack. Take care; the sail will come across again."
The air struck cold as they went more into the wind, and Suleima wrapped her black bernouse more closely round her and nestled under shelter of the lad.
"You are cold?" he asked, suddenly.
"No, Mitsos, not if you sit like that. But isn't it ice to you? Have another piece of Rahat-la-koom?"
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