_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_.
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