‘I am――a-holdin’ him!’ gasped Pud, doing nothing of the sort for the reason that he had lost his line and it was paying out at a great rate. All Pud was doing was holding the rod and groping wildly for the line. He got it finally when it caught about his foot, but by that time the fish had had a full forty feet of run and was thinking things over somewhere. Pud disentangled the line and began to reel nervously. _Click-click-click_――Then _cli-i-ick!_ and out spun the line again! ‘Gee, he must be a whale!’ panted Pud. Tim, in a spasm of nervous excitement, hopped about behind him. ‘Never mind the reel,’ he sputtered. ‘Get hold of the line and work him in that way. That’s the ticket! He’s coming!’ ‘You――you’d better get your line up out of the way,’ said Pud. ‘He might get tangled――’ ‘It is up! Lookout! Don’t give him slack!’ Something huge broke water a dozen feet away, sending the silvery drops high in air, and disappeared again with a mighty tug at the line. Pud yielded a few inches and then recovered them. The captive swerved toward the stern, circled back again and tried to head away. Suddenly there was a yelp from Harmon. ‘I got me one!’ he cried. ‘I got me a basses!’ He was still on his back, holding hard to his pole which was buckling over the edge of the boat. ‘Please, sir, Mister Tim, lay ahold of it till I gets up!’ ‘You fool nigger!’ stormed Tim. ‘You’ve gone and got your line tangled with Pud’s! And he’s got a bass as big as a house on! And if he loses him――’ ‘What you wan’ I should do?’ begged Harmon. ‘Wan’ I should leggo?’ ‘Yes! No! I don’t know! Gosh, if we only had a landing-net, Pud! Can you get him closer?’ Pud’s rod was bending threateningly and Harmon’s maple pole was giving forth sickening cracking sounds. Beside the launch, the water was boiling as the fish tugged and dived. Then Tim acted on the impulse. Leaning far down over the side of the boat, at the risk of a bath, he seized a line and heaved upward. Over the gunwale and into the launch came, not one bass, but two! There was a shout of triumph from Harmon. ‘What I done tell you?’ he insisted. ‘What I done tell you? I knowed I got me a basses! One of ’em’s mine, ain’ it, Mister Pud? What I done tell――’ ‘Shut up,’ commanded Tim breathlessly, ‘and get out of the way. Put your foot on that one, Pud! Gosh, they’re snarled up so’s we’ll _never_ get ’em off!’