"To find you," chuckled Johnny. "I'm surprised at th' way you both neglects business."
"Comin' from you that makes me laugh," snorted Pop.
Charley grinned. "Did you see that whoppin' big feller I got? Bet it'll go three pounds."
"Lucky if it's half that," grunted Pop. "If I'd 'a' got that one I had hold of, we'd 'a' had a three-pounder, or mebby a four-pounder."
Charley snorted. "Who ever heard of a four-pound brook trout? Been a brown, now, it might 'a' been that big."
"Why, I caught 'em up to eight pounds, back East, when I was a kid!" retorted Pop.
"Yo're a squaw's dog liar!" snapped Charley. "Eight-pound brook trout! You must 'a' snagged a turtle, or an old boot full of mud!"
"Bet you five dollars!" retorted Pop, bristling.
"How you goin' to prove it?" jeered Charley. "Call th' dead back to life to lie for you?"