Let's count." "Don't see as it could be forty-five.

I'm forty-five," said Uncle Salters.

"You count keerful, Penn." Disko Troop came out of the cabin.

"Salters, you pitch your fish in naow at once," he said in the tone of authority.
"Don't spile the catch, Dad," Dan murmured.

"Them two are on'y jest beginnin'." "Mother av delight! He's forkin' them wan by wan," howled Long Jack, as Uncle Salters got to work laboriously; the little man in the other dory counting a line of notches on the gunwale.
"That was last week's catch," he said, looking up plaintively, his forefinger where he had left off.
Manuel nudged Dan, who darted to the after-tackle, and, leaning far overside, slipped the hook into the stern-rope as Manuel made her fast forward.