the poles.
Wonder SM-TH stands it.

_Sm-th_ (_aside_). Well, it's a good job I'm back in the punt. G-SCH-N
may be all very well at a right-away race in a wager-boat, when the
money's on, and I've seen him do a decent bit of bank-fishing in
a pegged-down match; but he _doesn't_ shine as a punter, though he
fancies himself a second ABEL BEASLEY. (_Aloud._) Hitch on that chain,
JOKIM!

_G-sch-n_ (_blowing_). Hang it, I can't.

[_Punt oscillates dangerously, nearly tipping over B-LF-R's
chair, and making his rod wobble._

_B-lf-r_. For Heaven's sake, G-SCH-N, mind what you're up to! My
hook's foul in a snag, and you've nearly snapped my top-joint.

_G-sch-n._ Well, wind up, then!

_B-lf-r_ (_muttering, and wrestling with his rod_). All very well,
man, but I've got to get clear first. Keep her still a minute, do.

[_G-SCH-N "holds on" till he gets red in the face, whilst
B-LF-R tugs at his tackle._

_Sm-th_ (_shoving strenuously_). My duty--to my--pals and punt--must
be done--at any cost; but if this is--"the contemplative man's
recreation,"--give me a hammock at Greenlands! (_Puffs and blows.
Aloud._) Are you all right, there, G-SCH-N?

_G-sch-n_ (_petulantly_). All right be blowed! What are _you_ up to?

_Sm-th_ (_mildly_). Trying to keep you straight, of course, my dear
boy?

_G-sch-n_. Oh! I like _that_!

_B-lf-r_ (_working away at his winch_). Humph! We've stirred up a
quiet swim, wasted a lot of ground-bait, lost several fish, and--now
where are we?

_Sm-th_. Look out, G-SCH-N! We shall be foul of that awkward snag if
we're not careful! Let's settle down here.

_G-sch-n_ (_stabbing wildly with his pole_). All very well--but I
can't find bottom that will hold. Shove, SM-TH, and keep your end up!

_Sm-th_. Just what I'm trying to do. [_Pushes gallantly._

_B-lf-r_. Nice chance for hooking 'em after this infernal stir-up!
Take me half an hour to get my tackle out of tangle, and then it'll be
close on to shutting-up time. One big 'un and two or three little ones
not much to return with. Look at those impudent young rascals chyiking
us from the banks! Oh, for heaven's sake, you fellows, get her fixed!

_Sm-th_. Hear the weir roaring, G-SCH-N? We're getting too near
"Danger," dear boy. That's right, you've got ground there. Now, then
hold her up! hold her up!

_G-sch-n_ (_a tip-toe, and at an angle_). Dash it, how she drags!
I was all but over! Come up! There, SM-TH, shove her up shar