CHAPTER VII.
ON THE SOUTH FORK.
The particulars of the disaster to Mr. Dide and what led up to it were brief:
"I hooked a vewy big twout—he would have weighed ten pounds——"
"No, no, Mr. Dide——" interrupted the Major.
"Pon honah!"
"The speed with which you have become proficient as a fisherman is something marvellous, Mr. Dide. Ten-pounders in this water are not within the memory of the oldest inhabitant."
"Weally, he was twice as big as the one we hooked this mawning——"
"Then he must have weighed not quite three pounds, Mr. Dide. The only sure way is to catch your fish and weigh him on the scales."
"Major! Major! think of the penalty provided against that sort of wit."
"It was not so intended, I assure you, my boy."
"But, weally, he must have weighed moah than thwee pounds, Majah, he was so big and he smashed the pole, you know! I hooked him, and he stwuggled violently for a gweat while, and when I sought to pull him out the pole bwoke; he lay on the watah and I sought to secuah him by going in myself and catching him in my hands; it was vewy cold, 'pon honah; he moved away and I followed him into a hole, but he eluded me."
"My dear sir, you're quite as intrepid as Kit North. You will make an angler, certainly."
"Thanks—vewy much delighted, I assuah you. I have been devising another method of casting the fly, majah. I find it vewy difficult, and it makes my ahms ache. I think I will take a piece of aldah and make a pop-gun and pop the fly out. Did you evah twy it?"
"I never did; with the pop-gun and umbrella you will revolutionize the science of angling."
"No? weally? But the umbwella was not my device, you know," Mr. Dide modestly protested.
"Still, you made the project possible."
"Think so?"
"Do you shoot, Mr. Dide?"
"Aw, a little. I have pwacticed some with a Winchestah, at a tawget, you know."
The Major deemed it advisable to admonish the gentleman that it would be well for him to seek a change of clothing, or at least to wring out his garments and hang them on the bushes to dry. The latter part of the suggestion was rejected as impossible—"somebody might come, you know"—notwithstanding the Major offered him the use of a rubber coat during the emergency. Mr. Dide therefore trudged off toward the town, leaving an impression, to one ignorant of the cause, that a miniature sprinkler had just passed over the road. After his departure I informed the Major that the gentleman had intimated a desire to accompany us during the remainder of our trip.
"If you can stand it, I can, my boy."
We broke camp and passed through Meeker early the following morning. The town—the site of the old military post—is pleasantly situated on a level place in the valley, skirted on one side by low hills and on the other by the river, from which rises a steep bluff; on the summit of this stands the remains of an adobe signal station, profiled against the background of sky. There is a square in the town, and surrounding it the adobe buildings erected by the government, but now utilized by the peaceful citizens as dwellings or stores. Indians are not presumed capable of bombs, mortars or big guns, and, of course, in selecting a military post with a view to their methods and capabilities a valley with water is better than a hill-top without. The country is rich with ripening grain, and every available acre is either being prepared for cultivation or is actually under tillage. The mountains that border all this valley are low and many covered with timber to their summits. Between the gaps of the closer hills one may discover glades opulent in pasturage.
Near noon we lunched at an excellent spring a little way from the forks of the river. We were overtaken here by Mr. Dide on horseback, for whom we had left, at the hotel, an invitation to join us. He had provided himself with a new rod and a pair of blankets. What the settlers thought of a man on horseback, with a glass in his eye and an umbrella over his head, riding through the country, has not yet transpired. He had experienced some difficulty at the start; the horse, objecting to the extraordinary equipment of the rider, had endeavored to throw him off, but failing in that, ran away. The dogs also had added to his discomfiture by making frequent sorties, threatening his legs and vociferously assailing the heels of his steed. Mr. Dide had, however, survived all impediments and came up smiling.
The valley of the South Fork is somewhat narrower than that of the main river through which we had come. The brush marks the course of the stream on the left, and beyond it the mountains rise gradually for perhaps two thousand feet, while to the right they reach about the same altitude. The aspen groves are abundant, their lighter green foliage being interspersed with the darker hue of the pines, clothing the sloping hillsides from the base to the summit. The road is smooth and we can trot the horses readily. At times we are close to the river and again half a mile away. Coming to a great clump of bushes on the left, a family of willow grouse was flushed from the grass near the road-side; there were six in the flock, and the major potted four of the young ones, they having alighted in the adjacent trees. We had gathered up the birds and gone but a little way when Joshua cried out excitedly:
"Look at her! look at her! right ahead there, in the road. Where's the rifle—gimme the rifle!"
Not two hundred feet from us stood a magnificent doe, broadside on, and an easy shot for the veriest tyro that ever pulled trigger. Instead of bringing the rifle to bear or giving it to Mr. Miles, the Major waved his hat and shouted. The beauty ceased staring at us and bounded away gracefully toward the aspens on the right.
"What'n thunder!—Major! you do beat all, that's a fact. Did anybody ever see such a pretty shot!" exclaimed Joshua regretfully and with an expression of disgust.
"Mr. Miles, you should understand, as well as the rest of us, that it is against the law to kill does at this time; it is the close season, and I have no doubt she has a suckling fawn hid not a hundred yards away. We'll have no law-breaking; if we need venison we will take one with horns, not kill the mother and leave the babies to starve. Think of it, man; think of the cruelty of it!"
"Hannup, Woman! ga'lang, Baby," was the only response from Joshua. It came with vigor; disgust pervaded his entire system. We passed the clump of willows, when Mr. Dide, who was trotting along behind, exclaimed:
"Aw, Majah! look theah."
Turning, we saw a buck that had just made its way out of the cover, running swiftly across the road and making for the mountain side. Joshua brought down his whip upon the horses with his usual admonition to them, but given in a tone that indicated a determination to eschew venison or even the thought of it. The Major smiled with the satisfaction of a man who realizes having made an impression. Reaching the foot of a slight rise the horses were permitted to slacken their pace, and silence reigning at the time, Joshua broke out with one of his familiar hymns:
"Almost persuaded."
"I would rather you were fully persuaded, Mr. Miles," said the Major when the singer had concluded the first stanza.
"All right—here she goes."
Joshua seemed to rise to his best effort, and was unexpectedly joined by Mr. Dide in an excellent bass.
"Well!" said the Major, as the song was concluded, "our lines seem to have fallen in pleasant places, sure enough. I was not aware of the hymn, however."
"If all the hunters that come over here lived up to your way, Major, we'd have to kill the deer in self-defence."
"You believe, however, that my way is the right way, don't you?"
"Yes, I do—hannup, Woman."
Later in the afternoon we came to what is known as the "Still Water." A subsequent examination of this place in the stream impressed me as being caused by the peculiar formation of the bed-rock. An idea of it may be imparted by taking a dozen shingles and laying them on a level, as you would upon a roof, with the butts lapping a couple of inches only. Consider this the bed of a river with the water flowing over it from the thin end of the shingles, the butts being from three or four feet to ten in thickness. At each butt, or where the rock breaks abruptly, there is a scarcely perceptible motion of the water; immediately beneath is a deep hole, growing shallower as the next butt is reached; then follows another hole; there are several miles of this water in which the current is barely noticeable; the banks are four and five feet from the surface, which is as smooth as glass. The willows grow thickly on both sides of the stream, with breaks at intervals that give one access to it.
Joshua, who was familiar with the vicinity, pronounced Still Water "a dandy place to fish," but we did not stop, except to permit the Major to possess himself of two more grouse, the birds being abundant. We made camp before dark near the mouth of the cañon.
Immediately opposite is a perpendicular bluff of rocks two hundred feet high, or more; slight projections here and there in the face of it serve as footholds for a few hardy bushes, a cluster of wild flowers, or a matted vine; nearer the summit are dwarfed pines. The river sweeps along the foot of this wall; distilled from its near mountain springs, it is as clear as crystal, and, dashing from the shadows of the adjacent cañon, is, as Mr. Dide expresses it, "vewy cold." On the side of the river where our camp lies the valley extends very gradually up and back to the neighboring hills. The grass is bountiful and rich, and we have a cluster of young pines under which we may lounge in the heat of the day. Looking down the course of the river the valley becomes wider, and we have an open view of mountains and green slopes for miles. At our first night's camp in this secluded spot, when the fire has burned low and casts fitful shadows against the opposite cliff, we find ourselves with our feet due north as we lie in our blankets. There is a peculiar charm in the bed of fragrant twigs, with nothing to shut off our vision of the fretted roof. We may gaze out of our shadowy environment into the faces of the bright gems and hold hallowed communion with their mysteries. The liquid voices of the Naiads in their revels sweep gleefully toward me and then away again in softest cadence. The north star and the Dipper grow bright, then indistinct, then revive and grow dim again, as the gentle sprites brush my eyelids tenderly with their downy wings and soothe me into sweet forgetfulness. Some time in the night I awoke; the Dipper had moved, or rather we had moved, and the constellation was no longer in sight. The silence was broken only by the heavy breathing of my nearest companion, the Major, and the hymn from the river. As its notes rose and fell its somnolent influence took me gently in charge again. The "to-hoo—to-hoo" of an owl interrupted the spell for a moment; I saw him in my mind's eye solemnly staring into the darkness, and I was gone before he had concluded the second call.
When I awoke again it was daylight and I raised on my elbow to take in my fellows. Joshua lay rolled in his blankets under the cluster of pines. Mr. Dide looked thin and singular without his eyeglass. His nose had reached the peeling stage under the influence of the sun, and was decorated with ragged bits of skin, as if it had been caught in a shower of tattered tissue-paper. The Major, with his hat tied over his head, bore marks of the out-door life and slept like a child. I turned out quietly, as the sun crept over the hills, slanting its glad rays against the opposite cliff, and when they touched the swirling water at its foot, I put my rod together, with a coachman on the end of the leader, and walked a dozen paces to a little gravel bar.
I had never before tried the denizens of our
mountain streams at so early an hour, and was
doubtful of securing anything for breakfast. I
sent the coachman over into the swirl and hooked
a trout at once; landing him safely, I tried for the
second and secured him. Just below me a few
rods the river made an abrupt bend, and a great
boulder there had accumulated a quantity of drift,
under which was a promising pool. I tried the
pool with flattering success, landing three fish,
either of which would weigh half a pound. Another
cast, a little nearer a log that constituted
the main support of the rubbish, and a beautiful
salmon-tinted trout rolled up to the fly and was
caught. The water was swift, and he caused me
some uneasiness by making directly for his lurking-place;
if he ever reached the snags that had
heretofore afforded him shelter, or the line should
foul in the vibrating branches of some drift that
swung in mid-stream between us, he was no longer
mine. To keep him from his hiding-place I took
the risk of refusing him line, merely dropping the
point of the rod a little in his more violent struggles;
to avoid the nearer brush I went into the
water and succeeded in getting below that difficulty.
I realized Mr. Dide's conclusion of the
temperature, and felt that his adverb was altogether
inadequate—a dead failure, in fact; it demanded
adjectives in quantity and force. The
water reached my knees, and I feared if it rose any
higher I should be compelled to take to the bank;
rubber boots afford some protection in such emergencies
and temper the chill. I had only a light
pair of old shoes devoted to camp use in dry
weather. Having attained an advantageous position,
I succeeded in coaxing his troutship completely
away from danger into slower water, and
learning that he was securely fastened, I had no
apprehension of the result. I allowed him to
fight until he was quite exhausted, and then drew
him up to and upon the small bar at the edge of
which I had been standing. I must weigh him,
surely, then and there; and by the pocket scales
he brings down the indicator to two pounds and
two ounces, and, for "a red feller," he had offered
more than ordinary resistance.
Lake George.
There was an abundance for breakfast, and twenty minutes had sufficed to cover the time from my leaving the camp. I gathered up my spoils, strung them on a willow twig and returned. The sleepers had not changed their attitudes, and I gave them the benefit of a morning bell after the manner of an Indian war-whoop. The Major merely opened his eyes, Mr. Dide was startled, and Joshua took in the situation calmly.
"Arise, ye sluggards, and see the result of twenty-minutes' work on the South Fork of the White!"
"I'll discount that before noon," said the major, throwing off his blankets.
While the Major and Mr. Dide made their way to the water's edge with soap and towel, Joshua appealed to me confidentially. He wanted to know why the Major had brought "that Winchester."
I suggested that he might have intended it for bear.
"But see here, now, can't you persuade him to kill a deer, or to let me have the rifle? I see that he keeps the ca'tridges fastened up in that box of his, or stowed in his pockets."
Plainly the Major and Joshua understood each other upon the question of game, but I consoled him by agreeing to comply with his wishes.
CHAPTER VIII.
SPORT.
Within two miles of us was a ranch, where we knew there were several men. While discussing breakfast, I prefaced my request to the Major by intimating these facts, and hinting that a taste of venison would serve as a change from trout and grouse. The Major looked at me and then at Joshua, who was busy over the fire, but attentive.
"Those men will help us dispose of a deer, if you get one."
"Very likely, if they haven't got a supply on hand."
"Suppose you inquire."
"Well, I'll think of it," looking again in Joshua's direction.
"If you'll just leave some of them ca'tridges where I can lay hands on 'em, I'll get some venison," Joshua broke in, giving a trout in the frying-pan an extra turn and pressing the centre down with his knife.
"No doubt," and the Major's visage relaxed into a smile.
"You bet I will. I can't see the use of havin' deer runnin' all over and never a shot fired; there's a difference between supplyin' your wants and wastin'."
When the meal was concluded the Major shouldered his rifle and sauntered off toward the cabin of the settler. He returned in the course of an hour, with the announcement that the men would "not mind" taking a little meat; they had been too busy for a few days past to do any hunting. They would not object to a few trout, as well, if we had them to spare. This was good news.
"Those men have trapped and killed four bears during the past few days," said the Major.
"Where'bouts?" inquired Joshua quickly.
"Just up there in the timber a couple of miles. The bear killed a horse, and the men have been after the bear with pretty good success."
"I should say so—mebbe I'll go up and see 'em."
"Better not, without a gun."
"That's so—mebbe there's more around," murmured Joshua; "I've no notion goin' up there and roostin' in a tree." In a few moments he broke out with a song which we had not heard from him:
"The Lord will provide."
"I've heard that He 'helps those who help themselves,'" said the Major.
"Look here, major, haven't I been tryin' to help myself for a week and can't?"
There was something irresistibly ludicrous in the pathetic appeal that set us all laughing, including the promoter of the merriment.
"I will try for one in the morning, Mr. Miles, or you may go if you can get back in time to prepare breakfast."
"Oh, I'll get back in time, you bet."
As it was after nine o'clock, the Major said he would go up the cañon a little way and catch a few trout. I was to look after the advancement of Mr. Dide; I prevailed upon him to leave his umbrella in camp, and took him and his new rod under my supervision. The gentleman gave indications of improvement, and I persuaded him to the pool with the drift. After several ineffectual efforts he succeeded in throwing his fly beyond the brush in mid-stream, and hooked a trout that the next moment had the line entangled. He was without waders, and I did not propose to swim in that cold water for the sake of saving another man's leader. I took the rod, but finding gentle manipulation unavailing, I gave the line a pull and broke the snell only. Bending on another fly, I advised him to work his way through the bushes and reach the little bar where I had landed my last trout. By that means he could cast up toward the pool and would avoid at least one pile of brush. When he was fairly stationed I went back to camp, took my bamboo and worked my way down to the water at the mouth of the cañon.
A likely place presented itself a few rods above; I crossed a riffle and made my way to it on a beach of gravel about three feet wide. The pool was quite deep on the farther side and the bottom descended somewhat abruptly from the bar, so that I could not get more than eight feet from the bushes behind me without going over my boots. It was a difficult place to cast from, with even twenty feet of line, without catching the bushes, but I managed to get the fly away, after a fashion not satisfactory. It seemed the rule, however, that no matter where or how the fly landed, except on the shallow riffles, a trout was almost certain to put in an appearance. In the clear and smooth-flowing water in front of me, I saw a dozen beautiful fish; the one nearest the fly came up and took it. I soon landed him on the beach and tried again. We had made some stir, but it had no appreciable effect on the others, and I had another fastened in a few moments. This sort of angling has its disadvantages to the lover of the gentle art; it is too apt to curtail the measure of his enjoyment; he absorbs in half an hour a fund that, to be correctly appreciated, should consume double the time.
Instead of casting again at once, I stood watching the well-to-do citizens. One and another would rise to the surface, take in something I could not discern and settle back again; their existence seemed to be one of ease, as of mortals who had inherited or secured a competency, and were disposed to indolence. They moved with a dignity characteristic of high breeding. If one started in quest of a floating morsel his nearest neighbor courteously bowed him on, as it were, and with a graceful wave of his caudal said plainly: "Oblige me by taking precedence." Seeing one larger than his mates behind a small rock, I sent the coachman in his vicinity. Two started, but the smaller one halted—it was age and beauty before beauty alone. Age with its wisdom declined and settled back, beauty and inexperience came forward again and was lost to his crystal world.
Was this experience of the one who refused greater than could be encompassed by human subtlety? I was a little piqued, perhaps, at the indifference manifested. He might be a hotel clerk, a justice of the peace or some other dignitary metamorphosed.
I lighted my pipe, sat under the shade of the mountain beeches, smoked and reflected. An ousel came suddenly round the elbow of the river and alighted in the edge of the water a few yards away. He bobbed up and down a few times, said something to himself and took a running dive for a few feet along the margin of the bar, came out again, bobbed and spoke, as though he might be rehearsing for some water-wagtail entertainment, then took another dive. Presently a second one came round the same course, pleased himself and me with an exhibition precisely like that of his predecessor and finally disappeared.
I changed the coachman for a gray hackle with a peacock body and stepped into the edge of the pool. "The deformed transformed" had resumed his station behind his desk, and I put the temptation in his way. He could not resist it; he had his price and I had ascertained its maximum; a very trifle indeed, the veriest fraud as usual, compounded of tinsel and feathers, appealing first to the eye, then to the palate, arousing his dormant wicked propensities, tickling not the least of these—his avarice. I felt, I must confess, a symptom of contempt for him, as the sting of death touched his lips. I watched him struggle, feeling something approaching vicious exultation. I could not, however, but admire his efforts to rid himself of the consequences of his folly. Repentance, if he experienced it, came too late; the inexorable hand of the fate he had courted was closing upon him. He must have said to himself, at intervals, while he lay gasping: "If I were only safe out of this—I would never put on airs again—to excite the pride of the most humble of creatures." Resignation, however, was not one of his attributes; so long as hope of escape held a place in the remotest corner of his soul, he debated between genuine repentance and its shadow. He would yet make endeavors to release himself; if successful his old ways would be avoided, and humility might find a place in his mind, perhaps. I was not thoroughly convinced that he had been sufficiently overcome to warrant this favorable conclusion; I was still anxious to put my hand on him: he might forget his lesson. Being myself unsettled, I experienced no trouble in attributing all the hallucination to the individual at the other end of the line. One last, glorious endeavor, and he was free. I lifted my hat in token of his prowess, though I had not entirely pardoned his original conceit. When I saw him again he had safely ensconced himself between two rocks with his nose courting the opposite bank. He seemed very passive, with his tail at right angles with the gentle current. I watched him some time, but he did not move; he was prostrated, if ever fish was, in abject humiliation, crushed, absolutely, to earth.
I resolved to say nothing of my adventure. The Major would receive my story with an aggravating smile, a smile that quietly throws out temptation to anger and violence. Or Joshua might break out with that song of his:
"Tell me the old, old story."
But I will intrust it to you, in confidence, you understand. I am a very good judge and he weighed four pounds, if he weighed an ounce.
I recrossed the riffle and sought Mr. Dide. I found him within a few feet of where I had deposited him. He had procured his umbrella during my absence, and, with the patience commendable in the bait fisherman, was waiting for a rise in six inches of water. I watched him for a while and wondered if he would make even a fisherman; he possessed some of the gifts of the angler.
"I see you have that umbrella again, Mr. Dide."
"Aw, yes—it is so vewy waam, you know, in the sun."
"Have you caught anything?"
"Not yet, but I anticipate a vewy big one, by-and-by."
I went up to the pool with the drift, and casting my hackle close under the old log, was fast in a moment to the mate of the one I had secured before breakfast. Pursuing my former tactics I was soon by the side of our friend, who watched me with interest and encouraged me with his doubts of my ability to land the captive. When I finally brought him out, released him from the hook and rapped him on the head with a stone, Mr. Dide declared he never could accomplish such a feat.
"Why, my deah boy, he would smash my pole, you know."
His modesty gave me some hope that ultimately he would arrive at proficiency, barring the umbrella.
At noon the Major put in his appearance with twelve trout and two white-fish; the string weighed sixteen pounds.
"That is a splendid average," said the Major, spreading the fish out upon the grass, to be the more conveniently admired as individuals.
These white-fish were the first we had taken, although they are quite plentiful in the stream, and are sometimes an annoyance to those who are seeking trout only. Why they should be a source of vexation to any one is a mystery. The fish is beautiful in contour, more slender than the trout, has a delicate mouth, rises eagerly to the fly, and its meat is delicious. Break a Brazil nut in two, and the firm white kernel will remind you of the meat of the white-fish when it has been properly cooked. They are good fighters withal, though they do not break the water when hooked as readily as the trout. To my mind the complaints have in them somewhat of affectation, unless one is indulging solely in the science of angling.
The following morning the camp was not astir until the sun came up over the hills and, shining in our faces, dried the moisture on our beards. The Major was the first to awake, and looking in Joshua's direction, discovered that individual in the enjoyment of his morning nap. He called to him:
"I thought you were going for a deer, Mr. Miles. You should have been up before daylight."
Joshua declared that such had been his intention, but on reflection he thought, that as he would have to wade the stream, he would not go.
"But there must be good hunting on this side, Mr. Miles."
"Yes, I shouldn't wonder, but it looks better over on that side; mebbe I'll go when the grass dries off."
"If you had only mentioned your preference I would have gone out and driven a deer into camp."
"Now, look here, Major, can't you give us a rest? I was sleepy this morning, that's a fact."
Before day the next morning, the Major slipped out of his blankets, and with his Winchester started off in the direction of the aspens on the hills below and back from the camp. The sun had fairly streaked the east with gold color, and I lay watching the coming light, dozing a few moments and then awakening to see the surroundings put on more definite shapes, when I heard the report of a rifle. Before the echo ceased its complainings I was asleep again, dreaming that the major had encountered a silver-tip, and, failing in his first shot, had been compelled to take to a tree. I saw the brute tearing away at the bark and my friend embracing the trunk a dozen feet from the ground. The comical side of the picture was appealing to me when the vision suddenly vanished. I had been aroused by my own laughter, and I saw the Major looking down at me with a broad smile on his face.
"You must have been indulging in a pleasant dream, my boy. Come, it is time you were out of bed. Mr. Miles, will you please put the saddle and bridle of Mr. Dide's on one of your mares and go with me? I have killed that deer."
The Major was wet to the waist. Joshua looked at him dolefully and crawled out, inquiring for the locality of the game. When the Major told him it was not half a mile away and he had seen fresh bear tracks, he accelerated his pace and longed for another rifle.
We had noticed every morning fresh deer signs along the margin of the river, and the Major had stationed himself in some willows but a little way from the camp. Just after daybreak the buck, which he brought in was on his way for a morning tipple when the Major called him to a halt. The animal turned in his tracks on feeling the bullet, and the Major had followed for nearly half a mile, when he found him dead.
Joshua reported elk signs upon his return, and was enjoying a new fever from that cause; but he never found any cartridges in the magazine when the weapon was left in camp.
We had passed two weeks in our delightful retreat, seeing no one except the inhabitants of the neighboring ranch, who would visit us at intervals for a supply of trout, which we always had for them. In return they brought us such quantities of rich milk that we became surfeited. The weather had been superb, without a drop of rain, and we had no use even for the fly to shelter us at night. The Major wished for a shower to break the monotony, but we did not get it.
We had wondered more than once during our idle moments concerning the deacon and his whereabouts. One evening when Mr. Dide and myself were alone at the camp-fire, the Major and Joshua having gone to the neighboring ranch, I made bold to inquire of the gentleman touching the ladies in whose company we had left our friend. Mr. Dide answered:
"Miss Jennie is a cousin, I believe, of the Deacon, as you call him."
"But about the other lady, Mr. Dide?"
"Aw,—Miss Gwace!—she is a vewy chawming young lady, as you say."
"You have known her some time?"
"Aw—y-a-s."
Mr. Dide retired within himself, and I concluded, if I would learn anything, I must come to the point without indirection.
"She seems to be alone here; how does that happen?"
"Most extwaawdinawy—she is a vewy independent young lady and went away fwom home because of some misapwehension with her welatives. They pwoposed that she mahwy a gentleman who was distasteful to her and she declined."
"I admire her for declining such an alliance."
"So do I, you know—by Jove—I do! My impwession is that if the gentleman had known he was distasteful, he would have withdwawn himself—I know he would."
"You know the gentleman, then?"
"Aw, y-a-s. But it was too bad, you know, that she should be compelled to abandon her home. I have twied to pwevail on her to weconsidah and weturn, but she won't, you know. I have it fwom a weliable fwiend that she wan out of money heah last wintah, and became a waitah, watha than communicate with her welatives. She is a bwave young lady; I wegwet she deemed it necessawy to do so."
"What was her objection to the gentleman, Mr. Dide?"
"She said to her fathah that he was a simpleton,—the gentleman, I mean. She was wight, no doubt, but she is a vewy extwaawdinawy young lady, you know; she's a student of Dawwin and Huxley and those fellows, and the gentleman—aw—he is—aw—only a gentleman, you know, with no taste in that direction."
"Indeed, Mr. Dide, I believe you—he is a gentleman."
"Thanks. I—I know him and he would not have sanctioned it—weally—he would have ceased his attentions at once. It is a vewy unhappy situation—he was not advised until she had put her wesolution into effect. She is a vewy amiable young lady, but she has too much pwide to seek a wecconciliation with her pawents. I endeavahed to pwesent the mattah to her in the stwongest light, but she would not be moved."
"She seemed to be very favorably impressed with the Deacon, Mr. Dide," I ventured to insinuate.
"Aw, y-a-s, you are wight; the Deacon is, I think, a vewy estimable gentleman."
"But suppose he should not be serious, Mr. Dide—the Deacon is a stranger to you, and he might be trifling."
"Twifling! impossible! I cannot think so of him."
"Ah! Deacon! Deacon!" I thought, "you called this gentleman, contemptuously, 'a dude'—how do you compare with him?" and confessed to myself that the verdict was not in favor of my friend. I had no question of the Deacon's integrity. I was looking only for one of the elements that go to make up a gentleman, and found that Mr. Dide was better endowed with unselfishness.
The Major and Joshua coming in, the subject between Mr. Dide and myself was dropped. That night when my friend and I were covered with our blankets, looking out at the bright lamps and ready to be wooed into unconsciousness by the river's melody, he said to me:
"I have changed my mind concerning our new friend. I thought he would be a bore, at least, but I have discovered him to be a gentleman."
"So have I." But I did not deem it necessary to explain to him why I had reached the same conclusion.
CHAPTER IX.
SUCCESS AND—SUCCESS.
Breaking camp, we went down the river as far as Still Water. I left our old quarters with a feeling of regret, thinking that when I came again I should find them occupied; it was like giving up to strangers a home where life has been sweet. No one may question the stranger's right nor his good taste, but it is not a pleasant reflection that in due course one will be crowded out or will drop from his place, and the world will move round at the same old rate, as if one had never encumbered the earth; the thought tends to induce humility.
"It's like stickin' your finger in a pail of water, then pullin' it out and lookin' for the hole," said Joshua, as I expressed my regrets.
"I have heard that comparison before, Mr. Miles."
"So have I, Major. Mebbe I'll strike somethin' yet that you ain't heard."
The retort called a smile to the Major's face as he turned away.
The camp for a day on the Still Water gave the Major an opportunity to shoot a few ducks, and the variety of our larder was thus added to. I found my way through the willows and reached a clear place on the bank. The pool thus exposed to me presented an abundance of fish, the water being perfectly clear and glassy on the surface. I cast into it and the inhabitants started in every direction away from the lure. It was a good place to practice delicacy, and I soon concluded that delicacy was not among my talents. Now and then I would deliver the fly in a way that caused no commotion; the trout would not look at it, and as I drew it across the water, they would come up gently and take something within a few feet of it, then settle back, leaving a little ripple on the surface to widen. I changed flies several times, but the result was still the same: neither variety nor size seemed of any avail, yet the trout were feeding. I put a shot on the leader, threw above, and drawing the fly down, allowed it to sink and moved it slowly among them. One fellow came forward a little and looked at it, and I became satisfied that I saw him turn up his nose in disgust. That a human being of ordinary intelligence, as he presumed me to be, should put such an abominable species of diet as a bedraggled coachman on his dining-table, was beyond laughing at or praying for,—words were too feeble to express his scorn—he could only turn up his nose and move away. The verdict was as clear to me as the water.
A grasshopper might decoy one of those fellows to destruction, but there could be no credit in that to me, as an angler. It would be assuming the rôle of a Borgia and not taking an adversary with all his faculties alert—it would be secret poisoning and not the clean rapier glittering in the sunlight backed by a heart willing to take equal chances. I scorned the grasshopper in this emergency, as the beautiful denizen of the crystal scorned my ragged servitor.
Close to the bank I saw a white-fish moving slowly up stream, nosing the small rocks as if he might be in search of a tid-bit to tickle a fastidious palate. His small scales were distinct, and with the sun's rays playing upon them he was the perfection of beauty in color. His dainty mouth was fairly visible, turned up to me, and his gill-covers glistened like polished silver. I took the shot from the leader and dropped the fly upon the surface about a yard in front of him, barely moving it. The water was about four feet deep and he was near the bottom. When he caught sight of the fraud, it seemed to me that I saw his eyes suddenly distend; the iris became animated and shone within a flexible circle of pale gold, as he sculled quickly to the surface and closed upon the hook. At the critical moment I gave the fatal motion of the wrist and the trim quarry was fast. The instant he felt the sting he darted, like a flash of light through a clear topaz, for the bottom and centre of the pool. His flight was a strong, steady pull, always below the surface. I would draw him up, but the moment his nostrils tasted the air, he would strive for the depths. Believing him too heavy to lift out, and the bank being too high and abrupt for me to get down to him, I permitted him to fight until he was too feeble to prevent my holding his head clear from the water. In this condition, and when I deemed a violent struggle among the possibilities merely, I drew him toward the bank, kneeled, and taking the leader in my left hand as low as I could reach, I swung him upon the grass; he came straight, without the slightest movement until he touched the ground, otherwise he would have been free. I could not but notice how firm his body felt, as I grasped him to take out the hook; there was no yielding whatever to the pressure of my hand; he might have been absolutely as solid as a stone. Then I thought of those who take it upon themselves to talk flippantly of these pieces of perfection in their way, and felt a sympathy for the grumblers in their weakness.
I placed the fish in the shade of the willows and lengthened the line again; I felt encouraged by my success and thought I might secure a trout. They had returned to their several stations, after a short respite from the recent commotion, but all that I could see, scattered as I threw them the fly, save one; he seemed indifferent and remained at his post. I cast in his vicinity several times; he finally seemed inclined to move, and I coaxed him, as I thought, though perhaps I may have incited him to anger and a determination to drive my monstrosity away. Whether rage, sudden hunger or curiosity impelled him was a matter of indifference to me; suffice it to say that he abruptly darted up and took the hitherto scouted mystery, and I fastened it directly through his tongue. My movement and his own impetus brought him clear of the water; he went back with a plunge, was up again in a few moments, shaking himself in a very paroxysm of rage and terror. Half a dozen times he rushed hither and yon, but at all times he felt the spring of the splendid toy in my hand. If he moved to the opposite shore, it checked his career and responded to his every motion, as he circled back. A straight shoot directly up stream, or down, the bamboo arched over him like the wand of fate. He would pause at times as if by contemplation he might solve the occult cause of his restraint, and thus devise an avenue of escape, but his destiny was determined. A few more struggles and he surrendered. He could not release himself; I could not free him, or I verily believe I should have bowed deferentially and requested him to retain his sword.
Even when he was so far exhausted that I could draw him toward me without resistance, I dared not attempt to lift him out as I had his predecessor. I called the Major and he came to me, held on by the willows, and slipping down the bank seized and threw the gallant champion upon the sod. It seemed like indignity to him to have him thus handled, and I told the Major so. He should have been lifted out with the net and received with a delicacy commensurate with his greatness.
The white-fish weighed one pound and a half, the trout one pound and a quarter. Caught within fifteen minutes of each other, it was a fit time to determine their qualities as warriors. The trout, of course, from the dash and brilliancy of his evolutions, must bear the palm, but the sturdy determination of his neighbor in the pool must have a share of praise. I love them both, with a little more admiration in my heart for the black-spotted denizen.
The time to fish this water when a full creel is desired quickly is when there is a slight breeze, just sufficient force in the summer air to caress the surface into a gentle ripple. I warrant me, then there will be leaping and sport that will be fast and glorious. I had read of a trick, and tried it. I found a cottonwood leaf for my purpose, and wetting it, that the fly might stick to it gently, threw it into the pool. After several trials I succeeded in getting the fly partly upon it with sufficient hold at least to guide the leaf, which I worked down to where the trout seemed more numerous. I gave the fly a gentle flirt and it fell from the novel argosy into the water; it had not floated a foot before it was seized, and I had another fight on my hands, much to the interest and amusement of the Major.
At noon Mr. Dide expressed a preference for our late camp over the present one.
"I cannot heah the wipple of the watah, you know," was his explanation.
"Then, Mr. Dide, we will move on, and make camp below the Still Water, for a few days," said the major, expressing my wishes as well. "I have a weakness for that music, myself," he continued; "as cowering upon the lofty cliff, I trembling court the wondrous depths; with eager eyes I seek the angry rush and the flashing tints of foaming waves. Borne high upon the ambient air, the solemn whispers of troubled souls and the rippling laughter of the blest reach past me, intertwined, to sink again in lamentation. Then, lying prone, my attentive ears drink in the softer sighs of the sweeping crystal, and stills all my pulse to catch the cadence of the liquid rhythm, sweet as the fading notes of some dear vesper hymn, lingering in hushed cathedral aisles."
"Bwavo! bwavo! my deah Majah! you have won my heart!" exclaimed Mr. Dide, clapping his hands, and ecstatic enthusiasm apparently exuding from his entire person. My amazement kept me silent. That the Major should indulge in "that sort of sky-scraping," as Joshua irreverently expressed it, rather weakened my friend in our chef's estimation for the time. The Major received Joshua's strictures in dignified silence, which made the latter think there was more in the Major's poetic escapade than mere words, and, like every other mystery to the average intellect, it became weighty; he requested the Major to write it down, and that is how it found a place here; I purloined the manuscript.
We moved down after the noonday meal and made camp in a secluded spot not a great way from the forks of the river.
That evening, when our fire burned low, Joshua felt in the mood to sing. Having concluded one hymn he struck into another familiar to Mr. Dide. The effusion had a refrain of some sort, and we were all startled by hearing that taken up and repeated by female voices. Not being superstitious, the Major moved out of the light of our own fire and discovered the reflection of another some little distance away. We had, in the vicinity, mortals like ourselves, but fairer, no doubt, and Joshua, with Mr. Dide's help, sent out frequent invitations to the unknown singers, bringing a response until the hour grew late. The episode was not an unpleasant one, and I thought it might pave the way to an acquaintance with our neighbors. In the morning I started on a prospecting tour, and the first individual I met proved, much to my surprise, to be the Deacon, whom I discovered gathering wood with which to cook breakfast.
Where did he come from?
"Why, Trapper's Lake—we came down the river yesterday, with the intention of spending a week on the South Fork, hoping to find you and the Major. I had no notion you two were the singers, or I should have called last night."
"Then you have the ladies with you?"
"Oh, yes, my cousin and her mother,—you saw my cousin at Cascade,—they were the singers you heard answering you."
"The Major and I were not the singers, Deacon."
"No? well, who is camped over there by you?"
"Our cook and Mr. Dide were the singers you heard."
"Mr. Dide—oh, he's with you, is he?" and there came a smile into the Deacon's face, as he repeated the name, that, with his tone, indicated nothing to be apprehended by the speaker from the vicinity or presence of Mr. Dide, and in addition, his air was patronizing. Had I not known the Deacon well, having much faith in his kindness of heart, his manner in speaking of my newer friend would have proved offensive.
"If you are so fortified in your own mind, Deacon, you can afford to speak less cavalierly of Mr. Dide."
"Fortified?" he repeated, "how fortified? Don't talk in riddles, old boy."
"You understand, well enough—victory should make you courteous to the conquered."
"Why, my dear sir, I never treated him uncivilly."
"Perhaps not, but you spoke uncivilly of him—you called him a dude, and your manner, just now——"
"Well, is he not a dude?"
"He is every inch a gentleman, Deacon."
"I may not dispute that; but you seem to take great interest in him."
"Not without reason, Deacon. What became of Miss Grace?"
"Miss Grace—why, she's in camp there, with my aunt and cousin." The Deacon's face was wreathed in a smile unmistakable in its import.
"I'm not disposed to be impertinent, Deacon—but are you engaged to Miss Grace?"
"Engaged! why, my dear sir, we were married ten days ago, at Glenwood."
"The d—deuce you were——"
"Fact, my dear old boy—and she's the sweetest——"
"Spare us, Deacon! you seem to have been expeditious."
"Not so,—I have known her for a year, nearly; we were engaged last winter. Cousin Jennie and she were schoolmates east."
"Oh, that's the way of it. Do you know that Mr. Dide will be glad to congratulate you?"
"No, I don't know it—to tell you frankly, he was the cause of her leaving home; perhaps I ought to feel friendly toward him because of that—indirectly he became my benefactor——"
"Wait a moment, Deacon, let me tell you something," and I detailed the conversation I had held with Mr. Dide over the camp-fire. "Now, you see, if he had been aware of her wishes she would have had no excuse for leaving; she did not refuse him directly, and her bear of a father had set his mind in one direction and thought, no doubt, he was taking in the horizon, when he was only in a small hole of his own digging. Mr. Dide explained this to your wife, at Cascade, where they accidentally met, and she has failed to tell it to you. You know now how unselfish he was and is. Could you have relinquished your object with the same degree of nobleness?"
"Not one in a thousand would. But I don't just like the idea of some other man loving my wife better than I do."
"So long as she does not love him in return, you can have no cause of complaint."
"I guess you're right. I'll take in this wood and call on Mr. Dide."
Our friend received the announcement from me very quietly and greeted the Deacon cordially on his arrival. When the latter went away, Mr. Dide sauntered off to the river bearing his rod and umbrella. We saw nothing of him at noon, and later on I concluded to hunt him up. I had not gone far when I discovered him seated on the edge of a pool. He had one trout, thoroughly dried, and was waiting for another rise; the fly had floated down and lodged against a bit of willow that hung to the bank by its roots, while the limbs vibrated with the current. He started when I spoke to him, but looked up cheerfully, saying:
"I am afwaid I shall not make a success at fishing."
"Not if you sit still, Mr. Dide; you should keep moving and the fly must not be allowed to rest a moment."
"Aw—that makes one's ahms ache, you know."
It might have made his heart ache less, perhaps.
"Supper is about ready—won't you come in to camp?"
"Weally, I did not think it was so late—thanks."
In the evening Mr. Dide announced that he should go to Meeker on the following day, and thence he knew not where, definitely.
"You'll go to Glenwood, won't you? I'd like to have you take word to my folks and tell 'em how we're gettin' on," Joshua requested, on Mr. Dide's stating his determination to return to civilization. The gentleman consented in his usual affable way. At the earliest opportunity, I informed Mr. Dide who Joshua's "folks" were.
"Weally! that vewy extwaadinawy old lady! I shall be obliged to wequest him to wite—then I can dwop it in the mail, you know."
And so on the morrow Mr. Dide drifted out of sight.