"I do!" said Bumpus, holding up his right hand, just as thought he might be before Squire Jasper, and about to give his evidence in court.
"Ditto here; I agree, Thad," Giraffe hastened to say, not wishing to have it appear that he lagged behind his competitor a particle.
"Now, about the terms; what sort of fish are we to grab?" Bumpus wanted to know.
"You don't grab any, Bumpus," Giraffe warned him; "every one must be fairly caught with hook and line, and no seines or nets or guns used. Ain't that right, judge?"
Thad immediately declared he understood that, it was to be a genuine sportsmanlike proceeding, and that no underhand tactics would be tolerated.
"First the number will count," he went on to explain; "after that variety will stand for a second point. Then the heaviest fish will be a third claim, and we might as well make it interesting, so let's call the smallest fish caught a fourth point."
"That's four in all; can't you think up another, so's to have it five; and then three points will be a majority, and wins out?" suggested Davy Jones.
"A good idea, Davy," Thad assured him; "suppose, then, we also say the longest fish when measured by inches; that would make five points, all right."
"Yes," interrupted Giraffe, "but ain't that already covered when you say the biggest fish?"
"Not necessarily," Thad told him, "though in some cases the two would go together, I suppose. But sometimes you'll catch a bass that measures two inches longer than the one the other fellow got, but when you use the scales his weighs more by six ounces. How does that come—well, we've got an illustration right here in you and Bumpus; you call yourself the larger by nearly a foot, but when it comes—"