Scales were brought and the fish weighed.

The total came to eighteen dollars and thirty-three cents.
"I suppose an even eighteen dollars will satisfy you ?" asked the hotel man.
"Yes, sir," admitted the greatly delighted Prescott.
While the money was being counted over, Dave slipped away with the push cart.
"In about ten minutes, sir," said Dick, after he had pocketed the money and had thanked the hotel man, "I'll have something else to show you." "What ?" asked the man, eyeing Dick keenly.
"Now, if you don't mind, sir," coaxed Dick, with a smile, "I'd rather not destroy, in advance, the keen delight you're going to feel when you see the next cartload." "How many of these cartloads have you lying around ?" asked the proprietor quickly.
"The next one will be also the last, sir.

May I call you out when my friends get here with it ?" "I---I guess so," assented the hotel man, and then went inside.
Dick found a seat on a nearby bench and waited.
Dave and Harry presently came along with the cart.

Dick once more went after his prospective purchaser.
"What have you now---more bass ?" asked the hotel man, eyeing the heavy box on the cart.

Water was dripping from the ice and running to the ground.
"No, sir; just look!" begged Prescott, lifting some jute bagging from the top of the box, then digging down through the top layer of cracked ice.
"Brook trout ?" cried the hotel man.