“Fellows!” I yelled.
Something in my voice told them that everything wasn’t going as it ought to, and they came running, even Mark Tidd.
“What’s the m-m-matter?” he puffed.
“Big bass got away,” says I.
Mark scowled and shook his head. “Couldn’t get away,” says he. “No f-f-fish could get out of that live-box.”
“A fish did get out of it,” says I, sort of provoked at him, “and if a fish did get out that proves a fish could get out, doesn’t it?”
“Huh!” he grunted, and began looking careful all around the place. In a minute he stood up, and there was the funniest, most startled, hit-all-in-a-heap expression on his face that you ever saw. He held something up between his thumb and finger. It was a silver dollar.
“S-sure,” says he in a minute, “the f-fish got out, Tallow. He got out and l-left this dollar to pay his board. Nice fish, wasn’t he, eh? Because a f-fish did leave a dollar proves a fish can l-leave a dollar, eh? Good argument, Tallow.”
“Some of us dropped it,” says I.
“I didn’t have a silver dollar,” says Binney.