‘For goodness’ sake, what’s the matter with you, I’d like to know? What’s funny about killing folks?’ Harmon was threatened with a relapse, but resisted it successfully. He only rolled his eyes a little as he giggled: ‘Ain’ nothin’. I jus’ laugh at the way you done tell it!’ And that was the nearest to an explanation he was capable of. Pud said ‘Humph!’ doubtfully. Then he added darkly: ‘All right, but I guess you won’t think it’s so funny when we get to pirating right!’ Harmon accepted the rebuke docilely and without comment, and wandered away along the river. ‘He’s crazy,’ muttered Pud, still slightly indignant. But when he met Tim’s twinkling eyes, he had to smile again. They sat down once more in the shade and watched the ripples on the water and talked fitfully. After a while Pud looked at his watch. ‘Gee,’ he said, ‘it’s twenty past three!’ ‘Gosh,’ murmured Tim, ‘is it?’ ‘Yes.’ Then silence fell again between them. A kingfisher called stridently from the limb of a dead pine across the river and a fish broke the water with a splash. Then Harmon returned with his arms full of dry branches which he dropped noisily near by. Pud sat up and stared inquiringly. ‘What’s that for?’ he asked. ‘Fire,’ answered Harmon. ‘Ain’ you-all goin’ to have no supper?’ ‘Sure, but we’re not going to have it here, you chump. At least’――he looked doubtfully at Tim――‘I don’t suppose we are.’ Tim viewed the firewood, the sky, the river, and then Pud. ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he answered slowly. ‘This isn’t such a bad place, is it?’ ‘N-no, it ain’t. We could put the tent up over there; and we’ve got drinking water handy. I’m willing if you are.’ Tim nodded lazily. ‘All right, Harmon, we’ll stay――’ But Harmon had gone again. Pud settled back and laid an arm over his eyes. It was nearly five when he woke up. There was sound of faint, elfin music in his ears, and for a moment he couldn’t think where he was. Then his drowsy eyes fell on the slumbering Tim a yard away, journeyed on and encountered, seated on the fallen trunk of a tree beside the river, the gently swaying form of Harmon, his mouth-organ at his lips. It was cooler now, for the sun was sinking toward the rim of distant forest and a little breeze ruffled the water. Pud yawned, stretched, sat up and shook Tim into wakefulness.