“Sinker?” repeated Jule. “I thought your idea was to build a submarine railroad.”
“Fish!” laughed Case. “What kind of fish do you expect to catch with that layout? That won’t catch fish!”
“Huh!” answered Alex. “If I had a book containing all you boys don’t know about catching fish, I’d have to rent the Coliseum in Chicago to put it in. You boys mean well, but you’re ignorant.”
“Where’re you going to put this fish after you get it?” demanded Jule, snickering. “We haven’t got any contract for feeding any state troops, have we? What do you want a big fish for, anyway?”
Alex merely thrust his hands inside the waist band of his trousers and grinned.
“I’ve got plenty of storage room,” he finally declared.
“Honest, now, Alex,” Clay asked, “what kind of a fish do you expect to catch?”
“Catfish!” was the short reply.
“Wow!” exclaimed Jule. “I wouldn’t eat a catfish any quicker than I would eat a cat.”
“What are you putting all that weight on the lines for?” asked Case.