Between his scanty but “good-natured” acres and the liberal bosom of Skanigo, however, Puff succeeded in providing for the natural wants of himself, his very congenial wife, and a swarm of little Puffs, whose only need of clothing, as remarked by Zebedee, was to conceal their fins and scales. “Pity Puff drinks,” said Zeb to Gershom Todderley one day. “Sometime he’ll make a mistake and bring in those young ones of his, all cleaned, on a string with his other fish. And there won’t one of ’em suspect but what it’s all right. Good pan-fish they’d make, too.” Bar and Val found Puff down by the waterside, proudly contemplating the very neat proportions and finish of his favorite property. “It’d ha’ just broke my heart to ha’ lost that there boat,” he said, after exchanging a very enthusiastic greeting with his young visitors. “And now I’d a liked to ha’ gone off with ye, but I’ve made up my mind on somethin’ else for to-day, an’ I don’t see how I kin change it.” “Don’t change it on our account,” said Bar. “Just tell us where to go, and we’ll take care of ourselves.” It would have taken the boys a good month to have followed all the directions that Puff gave them, for he hardly stopped talking until they were out of ear-shot. Even then he stood knee-deep in the water by the shore, gazing fondly after the graceful little vessel, as if he half deemed it a breach of faith that he was not on board of her. “Which way’d we better go, Val?” asked Bar. “Right up the lake, not far out,” said Val. “Then we can drop anchor and fish for perch while you walk into your Latin.” “All right,” said Bar. And all right it was, for the rowing was good fun of itself, and it seemed as if there were new things worth looking at to be seen with every fresh pull at the oars. “This’ll do,” said Val, at last. “Puff’s put rope enough on this grapnel to anchor anywhere in the lake. He’s fond of deep-water fishing. Pulls up right big ones, sometimes--bass, pickerel, and now and then a lake trout. He says the fish are changing. Somebody put thousands and thousands of young ones in a few years ago.” “Rope? I should say he had,” remarked Bar. “Did I tell you Mr. Brayton took the bell-rope over to the Doctor’s house?” “Did he?” said Val. “Wonder if he’s any idea who did all that, or how it was done.” “I have now,” said Bar. “That heifer came in through one of the basement doors.” “Of course,” said Val; “but they were all barred on the inside.” “And opened from the inside to let her in. Then it was easy to close ’em all up behind her, fix her horns in the bell-rope and get away.” “But how did they get in or out?” “I’ll show you that, too, when we set our own trap for the bell,” said Bar. “I found out when Mr. Brayton and I were going up into the belfry. The rest of them haven’t guessed it, unless Mr. Brayton himself has. If he did, he forgot to tell me.” “Our trap?” asked Val. “Are we going to set one?”