Snarled they were, indeed! Not only in Pud’s line and Harmon’s, but in Tim’s as well, for he had left his rod leaning against the engine and the flopping fish had already added his line to the others in which they were tangled! It took them a good five minutes to unravel the situation after the two bass had been finally subdued. Pud’s trophy was a whopper, weighing all of two pounds, while Harmon’s, though fully as long, lacked in girth and so in weight. In the midst of the excitement Harmon discovered that one of the frogs had survived the ordeal and was hopping about underfoot, and with a yell he went after him, catching one bare foot in a coil of fish-line and coming a cropper against the fly-wheel. The frog, doubtless completely unnerved by recent experiences, gave way to panic and disappeared through a hole in the floor! All thought of luncheon was gone now. The three went back to fishing, Pud resolved to duplicate his triumph, Tim determined not to be beaten, and Harmon hopeful of landing a ‘basses’ as big as Pud’s. They had lost sight of their solitary neighbor during the recent period of agitation, but now they discovered him still motionless in the stern of the punt, as unheeding of their presence as ever. Pud would have liked to exhibit his catch and call attention to its size, but the neighbor seemed such an unfriendly chap that he hadn’t the courage. They fished on for another hour without so much as a nibble, and by that time their hunger insisted on being attended to. So, while Tim took Harmon’s pole, the latter prepared a hurried and rather sketchy repast of crackers and bananas and the last two bottles of tonic, and they ate with their several gazes fixed sternly the while on the floats. Probably the preparations aboard the launch reminded the solitary occupant of the punt that it was time for dinner, for presently he took a tin box into his lap and fed slices of bread and what looked to be cold bacon to himself and the dog. He did not, though, try to combine eating with fishing, but carefully laid aside his pole, coiled his line on the floor, and hung the frog over the side between gunwale and water. So far as Pud could observe the man had never once glanced in the direction of the launch since the latter had arrived on the scene. After their quick lunch, Pud, Tim, and Harmon went back in earnest to their fishing, but when the most of two hours had passed without so much as a nibble, they began to grow impatient. Pud was now on his third frog, having drowned his second, but the luck supposed to attach to Number Three failed him. The sun, although somewhat nearer the western horizon, seemed to glow even more fiercely than at noon. At last Pud said, _sotto voce_, to Tim: ‘I’m going to ask him where’s a good place to catch them.’ Tim glanced doubtfully across and shook his head. ‘He’s probably deaf,’ he answered, ‘but you can try.’ Pud tried. ‘Mister, where’s there another place to fish?’ he called.