Chapter VIII

48

STRANGE FISH

He happened to get a look at Ham, and the expression on Ham's face made him want to kick Ham. Ham was enthralled, too.

Damn the luck, Monk thought. Ham is a handsome son of a gun, and he'll be stiff competition. Monk resolved to seize the first possible opportunity and use it to tell some kind of a lie about Ham. Something that would torpedo Ham's chances.

It's lucky there's a pretty girl around to take my mind off our other troubles, he reflected.

Johnny Toms spoke. It was his fourth word since they had met.

“Belonesox,” he said.

Paris Stevens started violently. “Oh, I intended to ask you about that. And I completely forgot it. My mind must be failing.”

“Belonesox?” Doc said. “What about it?”

“Mystery,” Johnny Toms said.

Paris explained, “The man we found dying in the camp on Sugar Creek wanted to know if we had the belonesox,”

“Did he spell it out?” Doc asked.

“Yes. B−e−l−o−n−e−s−o−x.”

“That,” Doc said, “is the way to spell it.”

Paris was surprised. Johnny Toms blinked at Doc.

“You ketchum?” Johnny Toms asked.

“A fish,” Doc said.

Paris didn't say anything. Neither did Johnny.

“The belonesox,” Doc continued, “is a fish that is somewhat of a curiosity. It belongs to the general classification called viviporous. It has long pointed jaws that curve over vicious teeth. The fish is so fierce that he has to be kept in an aquarium by himself.”

“Aquarium?” Johnny Toms said.

“Or fish bowl,” Doc said.

“Small?”

“This fish isn't large, if that is what you mean,” Doc explained. “Not the kind of a fish that would make you a square meal. It belongs to the aquarium type of fish.”

Johnny Toms thought about this profoundly for a while.