This remark made in the hearing of Bob and Jack naturally aroused the curiosity of the two boys. They had been, on the whole, the chiefest of the admirers of the oldest guest for a long time, and when he came in just before dinner with his three-and-three-quarter-pounder, Jack ranked him on the score of achievement with Napoleon Bonaparte, and Bob admitted that he stood second to none but George Washington. Sandboys's observation, however, changed this somewhat. If somebody had once made a bigger haul, even if he had not caught a bigger fish, there might have to be some slight rearrangement in the order of their lists of heroes.
"What do you mean by that, Sandboys?" they asked.
"Just what I say," replied Sandboys. "As a fish, that's the biggest fish that's ever been took out of any of these lakes about here; but as a haul on a single cast, it ain't in it with one I know about."
"Who made it?" asked Bob. "Jimmie Hicks?"
"Jimmie nothin'," retorted Sandboys, scornfully. "Jimmie was a mighty smart lad at fishin'; but I'm talkin' of something alongside of which smartness ain't no more'n a peanut side of an elephant."
"Then who did do it?" queried Jack. "You?"
Sandboys gave a significant little nod, and answered modestly, "Well, I had something to do with it; but old Spavinshanks is entitled to some of the credit—most of it, in fact."
The boys settled down on the settee, which, when he was on duty, was Sandboys's throne.
"Tell us about it," they said.