‘What of it? This old cruiser’s doing five miles right now, I guess, and it would only take us eight hours to get to Mumford, wouldn’t it? Why, we could get as far as that to-day if we wanted to!’ ‘Well, but you said we were going to just cruise and take it easy. You said we’d go up Fox River a way and explore. You didn’t say anything about Mumford, and I’ll tell you right now I ain’t going to take any chances!’ ‘Pshaw, who’s asking you to? Why, this boat’s a mighty safe old craft, I tell you. I guess I wouldn’t be afraid to go right out into the sound in her.’ ‘Well, you can go alone,’ answered Tim decidedly. ‘When you get ready to do that, just you dump me and Harmon ashore.’ ‘I’ll bet Harmon wouldn’t be scared to go, would you, Harmon?’ ‘Where’s ’at?’ asked the darky, who, since leaving the float, had been watching the engine in grave fascination. ‘Out in the sound. You wouldn’t be afraid, would you?’ ‘What kind o’ sound?’ ‘Why, the ocean down at the mouth of the river.’ ‘I ain’ never heerd no sound yet I’s scared of,’ replied Harmon calmly. Tim laughed. Pud, about to make the matter clear, was interrupted by a sudden grinding and thumping from aft the engine and hurried off. When you put the clutch lever back on the _Kismet_, you had to engage it with a little wire hook or else it slipped back into neutral. Pud knew this, but in the excitement of getting away had forgotten it. Now he remedied the matter and returned to the bow, but not to the recent subject of discourse. A man fishing from a flat-bottomed punt just ahead and a few yards from the shore claimed his interest. To see if the man had had any luck, Pud turned the launch toward the punt. ‘Catching anything?’ he called as the _Kismet_ waddled past a few yards distant. A red and irate countenance turned toward them and the disciple of Izaak Walton gestured fiercely with the hand that wasn’t busy with his pole. ‘You consarned whippersnappers,’ he yelled, ‘ain’t you got no sense at all? What do you mean acomin’ over here and scarin’ all the fish away? If I had ahold of you a minute I’d teach you some sense, you dog-gone, low-down trash! I’d show you who was catchin’ anythin’! I’d plumb wear you out, dod-bust you! I’d――’ The _Kismet_ passed from hearing, but back up the stream the angry gentleman still shook his fist at them. Pud and Tim looked a bit chastened, but the usually solemn Harmon was doubled over with mirth. ‘Yeah, yeah!’ he gurgled. ‘Old Mister Man certainly was talkin’ fine! Lawsy, lawsy! My golly, wan’t he angrified?’ ‘Huh,’ said Pud, ‘I don’t believe he ever caught anything there, anyway, the old grouch!’ After a minute Tim asked wistfully: ‘Where do we stop for dinner, Pud?’ ‘Dinner? Gee, it’s only a little after ten! Didn’t you eat any breakfast?’ ‘Not much,’ acknowledged Tim. ‘I guess I was too excited.’ ‘Hm, well, I guess I was, too. Just the same, we hadn’t ought to have dinner before twelve; or, maybe, half-past eleven.’