"I mean," he explained, "isn't he a big one? Tremendous?"
At this again the Babe looked doubtful. The fish was certainly a very beautiful one; but to the Babe's eyes it did not seem in any way remarkable for size. Yet he did not like to appear to disagree with Uncle Andy.
"Is it big?" he inquired politely. "Bill says there's some fish bigger than a house."
Uncle Andy looked at him askance.
"Seems to me," said he, "you're mighty hard to please to-day. And, anyhow, Bill talks nonsense. They're not fish, those monsters he was telling you about. They're whales."
"But they live in the water, don't they?" protested the Babe in surprise.
"Of course!" agreed Uncle Andy, wrapping his big trout up in wet grass and seating himself on a handy log for a smoke.
"Then why aren't they fish?" persisted the Babe, ever anxious to get to the root of a matter.
"Because they're not," replied Uncle Andy, impatient at having let himself in for explanations, which he always disliked. "They're animals, just as much as a dog or a muskrat."
The Babe wrinkled his forehead in perplexity. And Uncle Andy relented.