"Catching anything?" he asked.
"Nope," said the old man.
He puffed away at his pipe and Sutton watched in fascinated silence. One would have sworn, he told himself, that the mop of whiskers was on fire.
"Didn't catch nothing yesterday, either," the old man told him.
He took his pipe out of his mouth with a deliberate, considered motion and spat with studied concentration into the center of a river eddy.
"Didn't catch nothing the day before yesterday," he volunteered.
"You want to catch something, don't you?" Sutton asked.
"Nope," said the old geezer.
He put down a hand and lifted the jug, worked out the corncob cork and wiped the jug's neck carefully with a dirty hand.
"Have a snort," he invited, holding out the jug.