breathlessly.

"A--whopper?" repeated the Babe doubtfully. His idea of a whopper was
something that objectionable little boys have been known to tell in
order to get themselves out of a scrape. No full-fledged fisherman as
yet, he did not see what it could have to do with a trout.

Uncle Andy seemed to divine his difficulty.

"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.