“You fellows just go around smelling what happens to come to you to be smelled,” Jibby went on. “You can tell a violet from a fish by the smell of it, maybe, but you don’t exercise your smelling apparatus. Can you tell the difference between a channel catfish and a mud catfish when they are down under the water ten feet or so?” “No, and nobody can. Nobody can even smell a fish when it is under water,” said Wampus. “Can you?” “No matter!” said Jibby, sort of tossing his head. “What I say is that, if people trained their noses and exercised their smelling powers properly, they might smell smells that they don’t even imagine they can smell now. That stands to reason. There are dozens of kinds of violets, but the most that most people can tell when they smell a violet is that it is a violet. A botanist, that has trained his nose to smell violets and knows there are dozens of different kinds of violets, gets so, after a while, he can tell most of them from the others just by the smell. And it is that way with everything.” “Well, what good does it do?” asked Skippy. “Everything you know does some good,” said Jibby. “That’s what knowing things is for, to do us good. It is just the ‘little bit more’ that makes anything the ‘most’ instead of leaving it the ‘least.’” “I guess that’s so,” I said. “It’s partly because Wampus knows a little bit more about fishing than we do that he wins the Uncle Oscar Fishing Prize every year.” “You mean he can smell the fish when they are under water?” Jibby asked. “Pshaw, no!” said Skippy. “That’s nonsense.” “Is it?” Jibby asked, grinning a little. “Well, if it isn’t,” said Skippy, “why don’t you go in for the Uncle Oscar Prize this year?” “Oh, I oughtn’t to do that,” Jibby said. “It wouldn’t be fair. What if I could smell the fish when they are under water? I’d know where all the fish were and you fellows that belong on the island here wouldn’t have a chance. No, I’d better not compete for that prize; I’d win it sure.” CHAPTER VI THE PRIZE-WINNER Well, we all laughed! It was a little too ridiculous, the solemn way in which Jibby said he would be sure to win the prize. We had all tried to win the prize, and we knew no one but Wampus could win it; he was just a natural-born fisher and couldn’t be beat. “Oh, very well, then,” Jibby said, pretending to be offended. “Just for that I will try to win it, and I will win it. I’m sorry to take it away from Wampus, but I’ll have to do it.” We all laughed again. “I suppose,” Tad said to Jibby, “you’ll go right home and give your nose some extra exercise now, won’t you?” “Well, if you see me doing queer things with the old jib, don’t be surprised,” Jibby said.