Presently the man began to take in on the line, drawing it to him through a guide at the end of the pole and coiling it between his feet as methodically and calmly as though a hard-fighting bass was not on the other end of it. The hound’s excitement increased and he began to bark ecstatically. If Pud could have barked, he would probably have joined in with the dog! Then, some ten feet from the punt, something flashed for an instant in the sunlight. But the fisherman was still coiling the line between his feet, and now the long pole was bending at the end and he was shortening his hold on it. Then, while the water swirled close to the punt, up went the end of the bamboo, a fat, fourteen-inch bass gleamed in air and disappeared into the boat. Whereupon the hound, barking more furiously than ever, sprang upon it, his tail wagging delightedly. The man spoke quietly to the hound, who promptly backed off; then he unhooked the fish, observed it appraisingly, rebaited his hook, cast out again, and once more became motionless. Beside him, the yellow dog again gave all his attention to the float. Pud pulled up his line and fastened a lead four feet short of the hook, for that was where the successful neighbor had his. Tim pulled up and set his weight back another foot. Harmon slumbered on. The sun got hotter and hotter, and Pud looked enviously at his neighbor’s broad straw hat. He and Tim discussed the catch in low tones. Pud thought it might weigh a pound and Tim said a pound and a half. Anyway, it proved that there were fish to be caught there. Presently Tim spoke insinuatingly of food and Pud consulted his watch and agreed that it would be well to awaken Harmon. Just then, however, his bob acted queerly and he forgot all about food. The bob nodded at him, first, and then it started away as though having business at the other side of the lake. Pud’s eyes grew very round and his hands trembled. Suddenly the bob stopped traveling and floated tranquilly again. Tim spoke scathingly. ‘Pshaw,’ he said, ‘why didn’t you strike? He was on there. Bet you he got your frog!’ ‘He wasn’t on,’ replied Pud bitterly. ‘He was just mouthing it. Suppose I don’t know? Maybe he did get my frog, but――’ Pud was drawing his line out as he spoke. ‘No, he didn’t,’ said Tim. ‘I can see it. It’s still on.’ ‘You sure?’ asked Pud anxiously. ‘I don’t see――Oh, yes, there it is!’ He had brought the frog almost to the surface, and suddenly, just as he was starting to lower it again, there was a bronze-and-silver flash in the water and things began to happen! ‘He’s on!’ shouted Tim. ‘Hold him!’