If Turtle Pond was silent by daylight, so soon as darkness had well fallen it made up for it by becoming seemingly alive with strange and mysterious sounds. Two owls held a weird and monotonous conversation in the near distance, deep-voiced frogs called pessimistically to each other about the pond, faint squeaks came from the rushes, and in the bushes twigs snapped and stealthy rustlings were heard. It would have been worse than idle to have tried to induce Harmon to sleep outside the tent, and so he was permitted inside without discussion. Undressing, Pud came on the letter he had written in the morning, still unmailed, and he sighed discouragedly. In spite of the best intentions in the world, he had thus far dispatched but one missive to his parents; and this was the fourth night of their trip! It wasn’t easy to get to sleep. Conversation languished, died away, and commenced again. They made plans for the morrow and remade them. One thing they were unanimous about, and that was to get back to The Flat as soon as they could. Silence had held the tent for quite five minutes when Pud again spoke. ‘Say, Tim, I’ll tell you one thing.’ ‘What?’ asked Tim sleepily. ‘You won’t ever catch me lying.’ ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ the other murmured, ‘you aren’t such a smart liar!’ ‘I mean I’m not going to tell lies,’ said Pud energetically. ‘I――I’ve had my lesson.’ Tim chuckled. ‘Wait till you get home and begin telling about that bass you caught!’ ‘I mean it,’ Pud insisted seriously. ‘Just look at that girl, Gladys Evinrude! My goodness, Tim, she was enough to cure that fellow in the Bible, Anna――I forget his name.’ ‘Why, she was just――just imaginative, Pud!’ ‘Imaginative, my eye! Anyway, you couldn’t believe a word she said, and if she got that way from reading too many stories I’m going to quit reading! She――gee, she was the limit!’ ‘Oh, I dare say she was all right other ways,’ muttered Tim charitably. ‘Go to sleep, can’t you?’ ‘All right. But I’d like to know whether she got that licking!’