"He'll always prove to you by his algebra that he knows everything, and that everything he does is right.
Of course, he's the best fisherman in the world!" "I'd have you to know, Francis Pennington," said Warner, with dignity, "that I was a very good fisherman when I was five years old, and that I've been improving ever since, and that Vermont is full of fine deep streams, in which one can fish with pleasure and profit.

What do you know, you prairie-bred young ruffian, about fishing?
I've heard that your creeks and brooks are nothing but strips of muddy dew.

The Platte River itself, I believe, is nearly two inches deep at its deepest parts.
I don't suppose there's another stream in America which takes up so much space on the map and so little on the ground." "The Platte is a noble river," rejoined Pennington.

"What it lacks in depth it makes up in length, and I'll not have it insulted by anybody in its absence." While they talked they passed through the brown woods and came to the creek, flowing with a fine volume of water down from the mountains into one of the rivers of the valley.
"It's up to its advertisements," said Warner, looking at it with satisfaction.

"It's clear, deep and it ought to have plenty of good fish.