imes, and he had also explained,
apparently without trying to conceal anything:

"I had to swim for 'em. Caught 'em all under water. Those big
speckled fellows are trout. They pulled me clean under. All that kind
of fish live under water." And he told half a dozen inquiring boys:
"I've found the best fish-hole you ever saw. Deep water all 'round it.
I'm going there again." And then every one asked: "Take me with you,
Jack?"

He had to come to a halt at the tavern, for every man in the arm-chairs
on the piazza brought his feet down from the railing.

"Hold on! I want to look at those fish!" shouted old Livermore, the
landlord. "Where'd you catch 'em?"

"Down the Cocahutchie," said Jack once more. "I caught 'em under
water."

"Those are just what I'm looking for," replied Livermore, rubbing his
sides, while nearly a dozen men crowded around to admire, and to guess
at the weights.

"Traout's a-sellin' at a dollar a paound, over to Mertonville,"
squealed old Deacon Hawkins; "and traout o' that size is wuth more'n
small traout. Don't ye let old Livermore cheat ye, Jack."

"I won't cheat him, Deacon," said the big landlord. "I don't want any
thing but the trout. There's a Sunday crowd coming over from
Mertonville, to-morrer, to hear Elder Holloway. I'll give ye two
dollars, Jack."

"That's enough for one fish," said Jack. "Don't you want the big one?
I had to dive for him. He'll weigh more'n three pounds."

"No, he won't!" said the landlord, becoming more and more eager. "Say
three dollars for the lot."

"I daon't know but what I want some o' them traout myself," began
Deacon Hawkins, peering more closely at the largest prize. "It's hard
times,--and a dollar a paound. I've got some folks comin' and Elder
Holloway's to be at my haouse. I don't know but I oughter--"

"I'll take 'em, Jack," interrupted the landlord, testily. "I spoke
first. Three pounds, and two is five pounds, and--"

"I'll give another dollar for the small traout," exclaimed Deacon
Hawkins. "He can't have 'em all."

The landlord might have hesitated even then, but the excitement was
catching, and Squire Jones was actually, but slowly, taking out his
pocket-book.

"Five! There's your five, Jack. The big fish are mine. Take your
money. Fetch 'em in," broke out old Livermore.

"There's my dollar,--and there's my traout,--" squealed the deacon.

"I was just a-goin' to saay--" at that moment growled the deep, heavy
b