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"Nobody eats catfish, either," went on my informant.
"And this one; what's this?" I hazarded, exhibiting the long-snouted, piratical, pickerel-like one.
"That's a garfish," they replied in chorus, "that's no good either."
As I went on up the road I heard them snickering among themselves, though they had been politely solemn to my face.
"Huh!" said one. "He didn't even know what a garfish was."
But then, like all the local fishermen they called the wide-mouthed bass "trout." Knowledge is no one person's monopoly, anyway.
