The man looked across at them slowly and, for a long moment, appeared disinclined to answer. Finally, though, he spoke in a thin, drawling voice. ‘There’s right smart o’ fish up to Turtle Pond,’ he said. ‘Where is that?’ inquired Pud. ‘Close on three miles up yander.’ The man waved a hand vaguely. ‘I’d go there myself if I didn’t have to row. Right good fishin’, up there.’ ‘Bass?’ asked Pud. ‘Uh-huh; bass and pickerel. Big ’uns, too.’ ‘Do we go up this stream here?’ ‘Uh-huh, up Turtle Creek ’bout three miles. Right smart o’ fish up there.’ They conferred. Pud had meant to inquire as to other fishing localities here in The Flat, but three miles wasn’t far, and if there were more fish in Turtle Pond they might as well go there and try it. Besides, they had already decided to put in another day hereabouts and it would be well to find a camp-site soon, for the marshy border of The Flat held little invitation to them. So Harmon pulled up the anchor and, after several failures, Pud got the motor started. Turtle Creek led out of The Flat at the far end, and the launch went on past the two islands and was speedily lost to sight of the man in the punt. As the _chug-chug_ of the little engine died away, the man pulled up his own anchor and rowed to where the launch had floated. There he dropped the anchor back and settled himself again in the stern. As he did so he winked gravely at the yellow hound, and, while it sounds improbable, it really did look as if the hound winked back! CHAPTER XIII LOST! Turtle Creek proved a shallow stream some forty feet in width at its outlet. Beyond the mouth the width varied considerably, but, in spite of an occasional snag or mud spit, there was always plenty of room. The bottom was plainly in sight, for the water seemed nowhere more than six feet deep. Because of the many twists and turns, Pud slowed the engine down and peered watchfully from the bow. Along the banks, not more than two feet above the stream, the bushes grew high and close, shutting them away from the slight breeze that had made existence on The Flat endurable. Tim perspired and protested, fanning himself with his hat. Of the three Harmon only was content. At intervals smaller streams flowed into the creek, sometimes hidden by overhanging vegetation, sometimes in full sight and so considerable as to width as to make it doubtful to Pud which was the main waterway. Those three miles seemed like six to them, and it was almost half-past four ere the creek swung lazily about and unexpectedly revealed a small pond of still, black water.