But his voice lacked conviction, and Harmon continued to look troubled. As Pud and Tim could not make their theories agree, they gave up the attempt after a while and the voyage was continued. The stream was now more than twice as wide as it had been at Turtle Pond and there were occasional indications of a stronger current. The launch, in spite of its handicap of one cylinder, was making appreciably better time. The stream took on many turns, some of them surprisingly abrupt, and Pud had his hands full. At last, without warning, the stream ceased to be and they were out on a long and narrow lake whose farther end was lost in gray mist. Silent and unruffled, it stretched away between wooded shores. Across from them, to the right, a close forest of trees formed a dark wall. Sparsely clothed at their tops with feathery green, their long straight trunks descended into the dark water, there bulging out hugely. Pud, having silenced the motor, turned to Tim, beside him. ‘Know where we are?’ he asked in a strangely small voice. Tim shook his head, staring about him uneasily. ‘Cypress Lake,’ said Pud. CHAPTER XIV ON CYPRESS LAKE The launch floated out into the lake, only the ripples from its bow marring the flat monotony of the glassy surface. About them on every side were silence and solitude, uncanny in their completeness. The gray mist filled the distances and hung wraith-like about the borders. No fish broke water, no bird called from the enclosing forest. Behind them the outlet of the creek was already losing its identity, ahead the lake stretched away like a broad river, between straight lines of shore, nowhere more than a quarter of a mile in width, until its somber water became lost in the mist. ‘Golly, if this ain’ jus’ about the mos’ lonesomest place I ever seen!’ Harmon was the first to break the silence, causing Tim to start nervously. ‘Well,’ said Pud, attempting a business-like tone, ‘there’s one thing certain. We don’t want to camp around here! And, even if the fish are as big as they say they are, I’m not hankering for any of them!’ ‘I guess,’ said Tim, looking distastefully at the water about, ‘the only things that would live in this lake would be eels and horn-pouts. Gosh, it’s a creepy old hole, ain’t it? Let’s get out.’ ‘Yes, but how?’ asked Pud. ‘I mean where? There’s no sense bucking that current all the way back to Turtle Pond. I suppose there’s a way out if we can find it. It’s probably up at the farther end somewhere. Generally lakes are like that. It’s only about twenty to four, and so we’ve got plenty of time. Wouldn’t you think there’d be some one fishing here, some one we could ask, eh?’ ‘No,’ replied Tim decidedly, ‘I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t fish here for fifty dollars.’ ‘You wouldn’t probably catch fifty dollars if you did,’ said Pud, in a weak attempt at a joke. ‘Well, let’s start her up again and see if we can find the way out.’