“Isn’t he a beauty!” cried Grant delightedly.
“He surely is.”
“How much do you suppose he weighs?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’d hate to say; two pounds and a half, I guess.”
“That’s pretty big, isn’t it?” inquired Grant.
“It is for this part of the country and it’s all I’d care to tackle with a five-ounce rod.”
Fred had removed the hook from the fish’s mouth now and he held him up to view.
“He’s all right,” said Grant admiringly.
“What do you suppose Pop will say about him?” grinned Fred. “I don’t believe he can match him, do you?”
“I don’t know,” said Grant doubtfully. “I’d hate to bet on it. You can’t ever be sure what he’ll do.”