"How long you been fishing here?" Whitey asked.

"Since sunup."

"And that's all you've caught?" Whitey indicated the string of fish.

"Um."

"Let's see your hook," Whitey said, as another pickerel was pulled
almost to shore, and then flopped back into its native element.

When Injun displayed the hook, Whitey saw that it was one of the little
ones they had used in fastening the tick-tack to Wong's window. "Why,
this is too small for pickerel," exclaimed Whitey. "It's for perch. You
ought to have a bigger one."

"Yes, me know," said Injun.

Again Whitey was impressed by Injun's patience. There he had sat for
several hours, watching those big fish return to the Yellowstone and
safety. Whitey knew that he never could have stood it. Finally he
questioned him.

"If you knew that the big fish would fall off that hook, and that they
are just waiting to be caught, how could you stand just getting the
little ones?" Whitey said. "They're not worth much."

"Mebbe after time big fish him swallow hook, then me get him," answered
Injun, which was a pretty long speech for him, and explained many
matters.