aiming for the foot of the old raft, from which the first of their two trot-lines had been set out, hal and ned cut diagonally across the bayou.

not a waft of air riffled the water; the sun was reflected from it as from a looking-glass, right into their faces, and proceeded to turn their complexions redder and redder. all around, the heads of curious turtles dotted the surface, disappearing as the boat drew near, and popping out again when it had passed. here and there a hungry gar or dog-fish leaped into sight for an instant, while numerous king-fishers, brave in their blue and white, plumped down, with mighty splashes, for minnows.

the perspiration rolled from the face of hal, who was at the sculling-oar; dripped into his eyes, and dropped off the end of his crimsoning nose. yet doubtless he felt cooler than did ned, who, idle in the bows, simply was baking instead of boiling.

however, neither cared. the weather figured little, and they were more concerned over the immediate future than over the present.

“i bet you we don’t get a thing except dog-fish!” commented hal, discouragingly.

“oh, yes, we will,” returned ned, with more hope. “that is,” he added, “unless the turtles and gars rob the hooks as fast as we bait up.”

“well, may be; sam and joe seemed to think we would, anyway,” admitted hal, blowing the beads from the tip of his nose.

they glided in against the raft, and ned, reaching over, grasped the line.

“feel anything?” queried hal, eagerly, as ned paused a moment.

“seems kind of like it,” said ned, fingering the line. “but perhaps it’s only the current jerking.”

he lifted the line and laid it across the bows; and squatting on the combing, beside it, gently pulled the boat, hand over hand, toward the first hook.

“nothing on that hook,” remarked hal, as presently the bit of cord by which it was suspended rose, slack and lifeless, out from the water. then the hook itself dangled into view. no, it had nothing on it—not even bait.

as it came in-board ned stuck a piece of liver on it and let it slide out again.

“something’s coming!” he cried, jubilantly, his hands pausing upon the line. “i can feel it now, easy! see him jerk?”

“hurrah!” shouted hal, excitedly, edging forward, to be ready to help.

hook two also was quite empty.

“looks as though the slough’s having a good big feast of liver, anyway!” commented ned, baiting.

“hurry,” urged hal; for now the line just beyond was dipping and surging, under the struggles of something on hook three.

“say—it’s a turtle! a big soft-shell—i saw him!” exclaimed ned.

“oh, shucks!” responded hal, disgusted. “yes, there he is!” as a stout flapper darted up into sight and vanished again with a swirl.

soon the line bent sharply over the side of the boat, and in the water under their eyes the boys could descry the sprawling disk of mr. turtle.

“how will i get him in?” asked ned, perplexed.

“why, lift him right out,” answered hal.

ned gingerly drew the prisoner to the surface, and then cried:

“the hook’s in his flapper! how do you suppose he ever got caught that way?”

“i don’t know,” replied hal. “i guess he started to eat with his fingers.”

“or else he put his foot in his mouth, and got hooked that way,” added ned. “did you say to lift him right out?”

“sure,” said hal.

“supposing you do it,” suggested ned, eyeing the turtle, whose flappers, armed with long claws, were striking in all directions as their owner strove to get away.

hal thoughtfully surveyed the situation.

“we ought to have a landing-net,” he declared. “but put your hands under the edge of his shell, and throw him in. he won’t hurt you.”

“i’m not afraid of his biting me, but he scratches like fury. his claws are about a mile long!” observed ned, dubiously preparing to follow hal’s advice.

the turtle, for the moment, was quiet, possibly waiting for his embarrassed captors to do something. ned suddenly grabbed him by the shell, and before he realized what was taking place had heaved him over the gunwale, into the boat.

the shock released the hook, which fell from the flapper, and now a very angry turtle was at large in quarters altogether too restricted to suit himself and two bare-legged youths.

the turtle was about the size of a wash pan. he was of the common sharp-nose, fresh-water variety, of a drabbish-gray, with a smooth shell flexible like cartilage. his legs were tremendously powerful, and with his long, snaky neck far extended, his eyes sparkling, and his mouth wide open, hissing with all his might he made straight toward the stern and at hal.

“look out!” warned ned.

narrowly escaping going overboard, hal scrambled upon the combing, and ran along it until he had joined the laughing ned, in the bows. here, perched upon the decking which extended over this portion of the craft, they were out of harm’s way—that is, the turtle’s.

this individual, balked of a bite out of one of hal’s browned legs, endeavored to climb up the side of the boat, but tumbled back time and again.

“i wish he’d go,” complained ned. “we aren’t after turtles, to-day.”

“so do i,” agreed hal, ruefully wiggling a big toe, which he had stubbed in his rapid flight. “we don’t need him.”

“i got him in—you get him out,” proposed ned, shrewdly.

“well, either he gets out, or we do,” declared hal. and he tried to assist the unwelcome captive by putting an oar-blade under him. every time, however, the turtle slid off, and meanwhile grew madder and madder—if such a condition were possible.

hissing and clawing, he scurried over the bottom of the boat.

finally his turtle cunning led him to settle upon the stern as the easiest point for escape; and never giving up he attacked the sloping board again and again, only to fall back. each time that the boys would have boosted him with an oar-blade he turned and snapped, and appeared so ungrateful that they were fain to leave him to his own efforts.

at last he managed to insert the claws of a hind flapper into the little space left by the oar in the sculling-hole, and then was enabled to thrust one of his fore flappers over the edge of the stern.

up he went. for an instant he balanced on the stern, his four legs and his stiff little tail, and his waving head all outstretched in air.

“scat!” called ned.

at the word mr. turtle disappeared with a fine splash.

“good!” exclaimed hal, much relieved.

“no more turtles come in this boat, do they, hal!” vowed ned. “better to cut the line, and be rid of them.”

the boys now proceeded with their business—that of finding out what else their hooks had in store for them. although the turtle was off, still the line swayed and sagged, denoting another catch a short distance ahead.

this proved to be on hook six.

“it’s nothing but a gar!” announced ned, peering down as he neared the spot.

“big one?” queried hal, anxious for at least some consolation.

“no—just ordinary size,” said ned, disdainfully. “what will we do with him?”

the gar was now lying on the surface of the water, beside the bows, only occasionally giving a slight squirm. maybe he was tired; or maybe, as in the case of the turtle, he was waiting for an opportunity to do a little damage. he was about three feet long, and with his slim, round body, his wicked eyes, and his bill-like mouth armed with sharp teeth, he looked fully capable of taking care of himself. the hook was firmly embedded in the lower half of his long, bony snout.

ned cautiously extended his hand, to try to release the barb—and the gar snapped viciously.

“i don’t believe we can get the hook out unless we kill him, and there’s no use doing that,” asserted ned. “he’s too coarse to eat.”

“fishermen break their bills, and throw them back again,” informed hal.

“but that’s torture; it makes them starve to death,” replied ned.

“can’t you jerk out the hook?” asked hal.

ned attempted this, by towing the gar back and forth, and pulling on the hook at all angles. the fish submitted passively, and suddenly appealed to ned as so helpless and so unhappy that with a quick impulse he severed the cord. with a flop of his tail the gar darted from sight.

“get!” advised ned.

he substituted another cord and hook, and both he and hal felt relieved.

their mercy was rewarded, for when they had run the line a few yards farther, they met with opposition in the shape of a dead weight which caused ned to exert considerable strength to lift.

“snag?” inquired hal, anxiously, watching ned raising the line inch by inch.

“don’t know,” grunted ned.

“just our luck!” groaned hal.

however, hal was to be agreeably disappointed.the knot fastening the cord to which was suspended the hook came into view—and on the instant the water underneath it swirled violently.

“it’s a big cat! come on, hal, and grab him, or he’ll tear out the hook!” shouted ned, wildly excited.

carefully he seized the cord, and gently, so as not to frighten the fish, drew him alongside.

“he’s caught just through the edge of his lip! watch out!” warned ned.

hal, regardless of any peril to himself, leaned far over. the victim, sluggish but far from sleepy, looked like a young whale. hal boldly thrust his fingers in behind the cat’s gills, to haul him bodily over the gunwale; there was a sudden gigantic flurry, a splash, and presto, change! instead of it being the cat in the boat, it was hal in the slough!

ned gazed in alarm; but before he could move to the rescue hal’s head broke the surface a few yards off.

“here’s an oar, hal!” called ned.

“uh-uh!” protested hal, shaking his head while he blew the water from his nostrils. “i’m all right. did the fish get away?”

“i guess so—no, he didn’t, either!” announced ned gladly.

“i’ll swim around to the other side of the boat, and you can be seeing if you can’t lift him in,” declared hal. “don’t you tumble over, too,” he added, as a caution.

the catfish seemed to be satisfied with what he had accomplished; and still about in the same spot, made no sign of farther trickiness.

however, ned was very careful in approaching him. a moment, and the cat came over the one gunwale as hal came over the other.

the hook, which had caught merely in one of the lips, where it had worn quite a hole, dropped while ned was lifting, and there lay the victim in the bottom of the boat, free too late.

“a regular ‘yaller’ mud-cat,” laughed ned. “say—but we were lucky not to lose him. if he’d only had sense enough he might have got loose long ago.”

“i bet he weighs twenty pounds,” declared the dripping hal.

“he’s all mouth!” returned ned.

the boys gazed and gloated. the catfish, gasping in the sudden change from water to air, lay, after the fashion of his kind, inert and emotionless.

he was a very ugly animal, of a dirty yellow, and while he was not large for his species, he was the largest that the boys had ever caught. indeed, he was quite a chunk of a fish. he was shaped somewhat like a flatiron; and, as ned had remarked, he was about all mouth.

this mouth, which in appearance was a split severing his enormous head from side to side, was fringed with long feelers. his eyes, almost white, were small and piggish.

“cut off his head, and there’s nothing left but his tail,” commented ned, ruefully awakening to the fact that perhaps they had not made much of a catch, after all.

“well, he’s better than turtles and gars,” replied hal.

for the time being the capture of the prize had quite overshadowed hal’s mishap; but now ned eyed him, and snickered.

“did you touch bottom?” he queried.

“no, sir-ee; i came up as quick as i could,” avowed hal. “do i look wet?” and he slapped his oozing thighs.

“sort of,” admitted ned. “where’s your hat?”

“it must have kept on going down,” answered hal. “but i don’t care. no—there it is. i feel fine,” he added, having rescued his hat with an oar. “you ought to go in—it’s great.”

“guess i’ll wait a while,” smiled ned.

“well, in half an hour i’ll be as dry as you,” asserted hal.

and he was.

the catfish was too unwieldy to be put in the soap-box seat (which they had upturned on bottom for a temporary hold-all), and stowing him under the decking of the bows, out of the sun, they investigated the remaining hooks upon the line. a large majority were stripped and empty, but two channel-cat and one blue-cat were taken. none of these weighed over six pounds; still, they were not seven-ninths head! no more turtles or gars were encountered.

the upper line yielded five catfish; another soft-shell turtle, caught, as had been his partner in distress, by the flapper; and a dogfish. the turtle released himself, much to the boys’ pleasure; but the dogfish did not. he had swallowed the hook, so that the cord passed through his cruel jaws, armed with their wicked teeth, into his stomach.

unwilling to lose another hook, ned solved the difficulty by quickly dispatching mr. dogfish by a smart blow over the spinal cord at the juncture of head and body, and made use of the otherwise worthless fellow by baiting hooks with his flesh.

running the two lines had occupied at least two hours. as they turned campward hal and ned were conscious that nature’s dinner bell was sounding in their interiors.

bob saw them coming. at first he was undecided whether to regard them as friends, or enemies. when ned shouted to him, however, his canine sense told him that this was indeed the scull-boat, bearing his master; and breaking from his puzzled stare into a volley of whines and barks, he shortened the distance by venturing up to his back out into the water.

then, when the boys sprang to land, he spattered them well for not having invited him. but who cared? they were about as wet and dirty as they could be, anyway!

as they disembarked, sam and joe pulled out, below, with their short, choppy fisherman strokes, bound for their own lines, which were not set in the bayou, but in the deep water, toward the main channel.

the boys waved at the pair, and joe languidly waved back.

now it remained to place in the fish-box the haul from the trot-lines, and to get supper. hal volunteered to cook a fish if ned would clean one, but ned decided that this would make a painful delay.

he hastily started a fire of driftwood and branches, and until there should be coals upon which to put the frying-pan, he strolled with bob back into the timber to look for more fuel.

presently, unable to stay long away from the base of supplies, he returned to the camp. he had some news.

“you just ought to see!” he reported to hal, who was squatting before the fire, frying potatoes and bacon together. “there’s a sort of dried swamp a little ways back in the woods, and it’s simply alive with young frogs. they’ll make splendid bait.”

“let’s go and get a lot, after supper,” said hal. “i don’t suppose the liver will be any good by morning. and, besides, it’s about all gone.”

ned seated himself on the ground, and sniffed the air. bob did the same.

“nearly ready?” they asked—the one with his voice, the other with his dripping tongue, and glistening eyes, and nervous tail.

“hold your plate,” commanded hal. ned eagerly obeyed; bob, having no plate, gazed covetously. hal shoveled out a generous portion from the hissing frying-pan, and saying: “here, bob,” laid another portion upon a slab of bark. the rest he kept.

each boy poured for himself, from the tin pail, a pint cup of coffee, and all fell to. bob went coffee-less—which no doubt was just as well, considering that at home neither he nor his master drank any coffee, let alone a pint cup full!

still, out camping one does many things which would not agree with one at home.

the coffee was very hot. the bacon and potatoes were very hot. bob circled his bark plate, with mingled anticipation and disgust; hunger urged him on, while the memory of a certain burning mouthful held him back. he suspected a trick.

at last, valor overcoming discretion, he plunged ahead, and gobbled as fast as he could, while his companions jeered.

the supper having been cleared away—and save rinsing the utensils there was no “clearing” to be done, after two hungry boys and a dog had scraped and licked—a frog hunt was inaugurated. protected now by shoes and stockings, the boys, taking the willing bob, proceeded to ned’s swamp.

the sun was setting, a ball of dull red in the golden west, and as the three chums traversed the short patch lying between the dried marsh and their arbor upon the bank of the slough, already the wild-wood was growing dusky and subdued. birds were darting to their homes, and were twittering their good-nights. a whippoorwill began to pipe in the island across the bayou. mosquitoes rose from the under side of leaves, and here and there moths flitted aimlessly. the mooing of cows, as they were driven to the milking-place, floated in from distant pastures.

“here we are,” announced ned, pausing on the edge of a narrow open strip.

“listen! what’s that funny noise?” exclaimed hal, stopping stock still. bob who had been soberly following at the boys’ heels, also stopped.

on the quiet atmosphere, almost from beneath their feet, rose a series of shrill little squeaks—somehow the oddest sounds that the trio ever had heard.

“isn’t that funny!” whispered ned. “what is it, do you think?”

hal didn’t know. bob didn’t know.

carefully they peered about, through the vicinity, and found out.

“oh, ned—it’s a frog!” on a sudden called hal. “come quick, and see! two garter snakes have got hold of him!”

ned hastened over, and sure enough, there was a small frog in as tight a fix as ever a small frog could be! each hind leg was deep in the maw of a garter snake; and now the two snakes, forced to suspend[79] their swallowing operations, were lustily pulling in opposite directions, while his frogship, stretched between them, was shrieking for help.

“oh, pshaw! let’s rescue the poor thing,” cried ned; and suiting his action to his word he struck one of the snakes a blow with a switch that he had in his hand. startled, the snake dropped the frog—whereupon the other would have fled with the booty, had not hal halted him and made him disgorge.

the frog, nothing daunted, hopped away. bob turned himself his avenger. wrinkling back his lips, with utmost disgust he seized the first snake, in its retreat, and gingerly clutching it between his teeth, while the saliva dripped from his unwilling jaws, shook it frantically until it fairly flew to pieces. the other snake, having for a moment bravely faced hal and menaced him with its tongue, disappeared.

“snakes?” spoke ned, pointing. “why, just look at them, will you!”

that swamp was fairly swarming with them, all, like the boys, out after frogs. a garter snake considers a young frog a dainty morsel, and some of the snakes were quite lumpy, from the unlucky victims that they had engulfed.

“well, if this doesn’t beat the dickens!” declared hal.

bob could not bring himself to mouthing another of the snakes. he would pretend to pounce upon one, and would quickly spring away, his curling lips indicating his disgust.

undaunted by the competition, the boys, urged on by the gathering darkness, hastened to collect their frogs and put them in the coffee pail! bob was of not the slightest assistance. he loathed frogs as much as he did snakes, and actually frothed at them, so intense were his feelings.

“what do you think!” exclaimed hal, presently. “here’s a snake that had swallowed a frog, and when i came up he was so scared that he opened his mouth, and the frog scooted out again!”

“don’t catch him,” cried ned, referring to the frog. “he’s been dead once, and now he’s earned his life.”

so hal allowed the resurrected frog to go his way, and it is to be hoped that the garter snakes were as obliging.

by the time the boys had secured some twenty-five or thirty of the tiny green frogs, each about half an inch in length, twilight had deepened into dusk, and trees and bushes were merged in shadows.

with a few stumbles over vines and roots they retraced their steps to the arbor. then arose the question, where to keep the frogs, considering that the pail would be needed for the breakfast coffee!

the voices of men talking, and the snappy sound of oars shifting between thole pins drifted from the mouth of the bayou.

“sam and joe are just coming back. let’s go down and report, and see if they haven’t something we can borrow, to put the frogs in,” proposed ned.

so the three of them trudged along the bank, where a faint path had been worn. it was presumed that bob, of course, knew what was up. but after they had gone far enough to indicate their goal, he suddenly awakened to the fact that the route was leading to the brindled dog, and refused to proceed farther. he sat on his tail, and pleaded with his two comrades not to expose themselves to insults from that vulgar fellow. as they refused to yield to him, he watched them until they were out of sight, and followed them with his mournful howls. then, having done his duty, he returned to the grape arbor camp, and curled to sleep on ned’s coat.

soon, even had they been blind to the flickering light, and deaf to the muffled voices, by their noses alone the boys would have known that they were near the fishermen’s cabin. sam and joe were busy, with aid of a lantern, at their landing. evidently they had just disembarked.

“hullo, there!” hailed the boys.

“hey!” cheerily answered joe.

“bow wow wow wow!” challenged the brindled dog—exactly as bob had predicted!

sam said nothing. sam was not much of a talker.

the boys scrambled down to the landing. joe was in the stern of the boat, handing out things to sam, who was in the water beside it. both men had on their hip rubber boots.

“what luck?” asked hal.

“not much,” replied joe, without pausing in his operations. “what did you boys get?”

“seven catfish,” informed ned, trying to make his tone matter-of-fact.

“and two turtles and a gar and a dogfish,” added hal.

“and two turtles, and a gar, and a dogfish, eh?” laughed joe. “well, i reckon that without ’em you beat us. fish out where we be are gettin’ ’bout tired o’ dough-balls; ain’t that so, sam?”

sam grunted; giving the fish-box in front of him a kick into deeper water, he plashed to shore, and stumped up the slope to the cabin. joe followed.

“come in,” he invited, over his shoulder.

the boys entered. sam was lighting a lamp in a bracket against the wall. the cabin was small and close, with its two bunks, its stove for cooking, and its walls hung with clothing and cooking and fishing utensils and decorated with prints. the room was bedchamber, kitchen and parlor, in one.

“we can’t stay, thank you,” spoke ned, fancying that the two fishermen would want to attend to their own affairs. “only, we caught a lot of frogs for bait, and haven’t anything to keep them in. have you got an old bucket, or some tin cans, we can have?”

“lot’s of ’em,” responded joe. “paw over that heap back of the shanty, and take what you want.”

“better have the lantern,” advised sam—speaking for the first time.

with the brindled dog continuing to eye them as if suspecting that they were stealing, hal and ned looked over the pile of refuse, and came upon an old tin pail which suited their purpose.

having achieved this, and said good-night, they went back to camp, through the darkness; and they tripped so often, and stepped on so many rolling sticks, and stones, that they wished they had their own lantern along.

upon hearing them approaching, the faithful bob was in arms at once, resolved to save the camp, or die; but upon being reassured by ned’s whistle and call, he advanced and greeted them with his usual wordiness, while he sniffed for traces of his down creek enemy.

with nothing especial to do, immediately, the boys sat on the bank, to wait. now the woods behind and the water in front were black, and the trees across on the other side were but a vague mass. a whole colony of whippoorwills whistled from point to point incessantly, and two owls, one distant, one quite near, hooted a responsive duet. bob whined and shivered, for the air was damp with the falling dew and the mist rising from the water. beyond, in the channel of the river, sounded the soft exhaust of an ascending rafter.

despite the attentions of numerous mosquitoes, ned felt himself growing sleepy.

“wonder what time it is,” he hazarded.

“must be nearly nine,” said hal.

“sam said to run the lines again about ten, didn’t he?” inquired ned.

“yes, about ten, and early in the morning,” responded hal, drowsily.

conversation languished; and after an interval of silence, punctuated only by the spasmodic complaints of bob, who was acting very babyish, ned spoke up:

“say—what’s the matter with running the lines now, and not waiting till ten. i’m pretty near asleep.”

“let’s. so am i,” agreed hal.

they lighted their lantern, and taking the liver, the frogs and the remains of the dogfish, tumbled into the scull-boat and pushed out. behind them, upon shore, stayed bob, the disconsolate, who was growing tired of always being “left.” he was positive that he was missing much fun.

the deep creek of night was decidedly different from the deep creek of day, just as the most open woods, in the light, are transformed into regular labyrinths, in the dark.

it was ned’s turn to scull. it seemed to both boys that they never would reach the raft, so fast they appeared to glide, and yet so slow they were in arriving. and all was so eerie—black slough, black woods, black sky, and queer noises.

“there’s the raft, right ahead!” exclaimed hal.

whereupon they bumped into it.

the water, which was so playful as under the rays of the sun it lapped the mossy old logs, now was sullen and chill. hal swung the lantern over, and speedily found the end of the trot-line.

they were forced to run the lines by feeling rather than by sight, for at best the beams of the lantern were shifty and uncertain. either they had come again too soon, or the fish had gone to sleep, or were gorged with liver, for two medium-size catfish, one from each line, was the total yield.

the boys were a little disappointed. out of the assortment of dainties at hand having baited afresh the empty hooks, they sculled back to camp, and bob.

with most of their clothing on, and their coats for pillows, they rolled in their blankets, in the arbor, (bob contentedly between them), and not even the over-sociable mosquitoes could hold them awake for more than five minutes and a quarter.