When everything had been done which could be done before the trunks came, the four boys together left the camp and walked up the shore. The novelty was still strong, and they were eager to examine their immediate surroundings. And there was much to interest them. Swift steam yachts frequently passed up the river, and the groups of happy people on the decks could be plainly seen from the shore. Occasionally a puff of smoke could be seen, and the boom of a small cannon on some of the neighboring islands could be heard, and then the shrill scream of the whistle of a passing yacht or steamer would respond in acknowledgment of the salute. Skiffs were also seen, and the rod held in the hands of the person seated in the stern would indicate the occupation upon which he was bent.
Above them was the clear blue sky, behind them the whispering trees of the forest, and before them the great, onward-rushing river, its blue waters knowing no rest, and yet in spite of their evident haste imparting a feeling of restfulness to all the beholders, so vast was the power, so slight the effort required to maintain the steady, constant course.
To Jock the great river almost seemed to be alive. At times it was restless and almost angry, and then again it seemed to be hastening past him as if it were unmindful of its surroundings, or scornful of the puny people who sailed over its surface or stood wondering upon its banks. But the feeling of exhilaration, the delight in the presence of one of nature’s most wonderful works, was apparent in all the boys.
As they turned at last to retrace their way to the camp, Bob, who had been silent most of the time, said: “This is a great place, Jock. ’Twas good of you to have us all here.”
“Yes, it was pure philanthropy,” said Jock. “You see, I had been down here before and wanted all the more to come again; but my father didn’t want me to come alone; so I just had to make up a party, or stay at home. I’m generous, am I not?”
“Yes; what was that?” Bob suddenly said, stopping short and peering excitedly out into the river at a place where a whirl or eddy in the stream appeared.
“That? oh, that was probably some fish.”
“Jock Cope, do you mean to tell me they have fish like that in this river?”
“Why, yes; what did you think was here?”
“Oh, I didn’t know. But I’m wondering what I would do if a fish as large as that one was should get hold of one end of a line and I should be at the other.”
“You’d wake up and go to work, for once in your life.”
“I think I should, for a fact. I almost wish we could try it to-night.”
“We’ll try it, all right, in the morning. Ethan will have to get our minnows for us. Hark! what’s that?”
The boys were now near the camp, and suddenly stopped as the sound of some one calling was heard. And yet the voice was more like that of one in distress, and fearful that something was wrong they began to run.
As they came to a place from which they could see into the interior of their camping place, they stopped and gazed curiously at the sight before them. Tom, evidently thinking that he was unobserved, had taken a position in front of one of the tents and was looking up into the sky. His arms were occasionally flung out, moving with the grace with which a pump handle performs its duties. He was standing with his feet far apart, and his entire bearing betokened the evident excitement under which he was laboring.
The startled boys were about to rush forward to his assistance, when they were still further astonished by the words which Tom thundered forth.
“Tew be—or not tew be,” shouted the young fisherman.
The listening lads gazed blankly at one another, but before they could speak Tom’s voice was heard again.
“Tew be—,” then came a long pause before he shouted, “or not tew be.” His arms were again flung out wildly and his face was still turned toward the sky. Apparently the question received no answer, and varying the emphasis and inflection, the sadly troubled Tom again broke forth,—
“Tew be-e-e, or not tew be-e-e-e.”
Again our boys gazed blankly, first at the excited young fellow before them, and then into one another’s faces.
“He’s sick! He’s crazy!” said Ben, excitedly.
“He’s going to commit suicide!” responded Jock, with equal excitement.
Moved as by a common impulse all four of the boys instantly darted into the camp; but the startled Tom, bestowing upon them one glance of terror and confusion, turned and ran swiftly into the woods.
Before any of the boys could start in pursuit of the fleeing Tom, one of them suddenly called out, “Isn’t that Ethan coming?”
They all turned at the words and perceived the fisherman already near the dock, and with one accord they ran swiftly to meet him. His boat was apparently filled with their trunks and belongings, and the two canoes which Jock had ordered to be sent were also on board.
As Ethan ran his craft alongside the dock, Jock, too excited to note carefully whether all his possessions had been obtained or not, called out, “Oh, Ethan, something’s the matter with Tom!”
“Hey? somethin’ the matter with him? How long since?”
To the surprise of the boys Ethan did not seem to share in their alarm. He was giving all his thought to the landing he was making, and as soon as his boat was made fast he climbed up on the dock and stood calmly regarding the excited lads before him.
“What’s he been doin’ now?” he said.
“Oh, I don’t know,” exclaimed Jock. “We had all gone up the shore and when we came back to camp we heard Tom calling. We could see him, too, and he was waving his arms and calling out as if he was in pain, and when we ran in, he just looked at us a minute and then started off into the woods as fast as he could go. He must be sick, Ethan. Come on, we’ll help you look for him.”
“Was he a-sayin’ anything?” inquired the fisherman, still for some unaccountable reason not much aroused by the startling announcement.
“Saying anything?” exclaimed Bert. “I should say he was. He was calling and groaning. Why, we could hear him way up the shore. He must be in trouble. Come, Ethan; come on! We’ll all help you.”
“Was he a-sayin’ anything? I mean any words like?”
“Yes, I believe he was,” said Bob. “We could make out a few words.”
“What was they?”
“Oh, he said something about ‘to be’ or something like that. We didn’t stop to listen much. The poor fellow was in such distress. What are you waiting for, Ethan? Why don’t you come on?”
“That’s jest what I thought. Tom was sayin’ his Hamlick.”
“Saying what?”
“His Hamlick. Don’ ye know what that is? Hamlick’s a dialogue or a play. I don’ know who writ it, but Tom does. The young folks over to the Corners is goin’ to give a exhibition, and Hamlick’s the one they decided on. Tom is to be Hamlick, and he was jest a-practisin’ his piece.”
For a moment the boys gazed blankly at one another, and then all but Bob rushed from the dock as if they too had been stricken by the same evil disease which they feared had seized upon Tom.
Bob, however, remained with Ethan, and with his face as expressionless as he could make it at times, inquired soberly,—
“When is this play going to be given, Ethan?”
“Oh, I don’ know. Some time this summer, I suppose. They ’most always give somethin’ while the summer boarders is here, and this year the walks needed fixin’ up in the Corners some, so they—I mean the young folks, o’ course—decided to give Hamlick; and Tom he’s to be the Hamlick in chief. Ever hear that dialogue down to your place?”
“Yes, I believe I have. I’ve heard of it, anyway.”
“I thought likely. Pretty good thing, isn’t it?”
“I believe it is thought to be a very good one. We shall want to know when it is to be given so that we can all come over and see it.”
“I’ll let ye know when it comes off.”
Ethan suddenly placed a finger in his mouth and emitted a shrill whistle. “I guess that’ll call up Tom,” he explained.
A repetition of the signal brought the reluctant Tom from the woods, and as he approached the dock he gazed in a shame-faced way at Bob, as if he expected him to say something about what had happened; but Bob’s face was still expressionless, to the evident comfort of the young fisherman.
“Step lively here, Tom,” called his father. “We must get these trunks and things up to the camp afore night. You ’most scared these boys to death with your Hamlick,” he added.
“Your father has been telling us about the play you are to give at the Corners, Tom,” said Bob, quietly. “We shall want to come over and see it. You mustn’t fail to let us know when it is to be given.”
Somewhat reassured by the kind manner of Bob, Tom was more at his ease and at once began to assist his father in transferring the cargo of the little boat to the camp.
The other boys now returned, but a warning look from Bob caused them all to be silent about the recent occurrence. In a brief time the trunks had been placed in the tent where they belonged, the canoes were left on the shore, and then Ethan and Tom began to prepare supper.
The appetites of the boys apparently were as keen as they had been at noon time, and the rapidity with which the table was cleared was a delight to Ethan’s heart. Neither Hamlick nor the Ghost could interfere now, for the demands of their hunger were supreme.
Soon after supper Ethan and Tom departed for the night, promising to return at daybreak in time to prepare breakfast and be ready for the fishing which was to be done on the following day. The boys stood on the shore and watched the boat as it sped away over the river, and then when it had disappeared from sight they all turned and demanded of Bob the explanation of Hamlick.
But Bob was in no mood to banter, and so he soberly related what Ethan had told him about the efforts of the “young folks” at the Corners to do something which should aid in improving the little hamlet in which they dwelt. Somehow it all appeared in a different light now, and the merriment was soon gone.
“I’m going to have a paddle in one of the canoes before I go to bed,” exclaimed Jock, as he leaped up from the bank on which they were all seated.
As the other boys had had no experience in that sport, they all stood on the dock, eagerly watching their comrade as he took his seat in the light little canoe and wielding his paddle swept swiftly over the water.
“Did you ever see anything like that!” exclaimed Ben, delightedly. “‘It’s like a feather on the water or a leaf upon the stream,’ or something like that we had in our English last spring at school. Isn’t it fine!”
“Yes, and how easily Jock does it too,” added Bob, with a wink at Bert as he spoke. “Travelling like that is just fun.”
“I wonder if I can’t do it,” said Ben, looking longingly at the other canoe, which was still on the bank.
“You can try it, can’t you?” drawled Bob. “Nothing like trying, you know. It’s a knack, that’s all, and you have to be careful. Shall I help you bring the other canoe down to the dock?”
Ben glanced once more at Jock, who could be seen far out on the river, and the sight served to increase his eagerness. “Yes; come on, fellows. If you’ll help me, I’ll try it, anyhow.”
In a moment the canoe was lifted and carried down to the dock. Then Bob held one end of it securely and Bert the other, while Ben cautiously took his seat in the middle. A shout from Jock caused them all to look up, and they could see that he was paddling toward them with all the speed he could summon.
“Perhaps he’s calling for you to come out and meet him,” said Bob, soberly.
“I’ll do it,” said Ben, eagerly, “and then race him for the dock. Push her out, boys!” he added gleefully, as he grasped his paddle.
The canoe shot out from the dock, and the boys stood eagerly watching Ben as he drove his paddle deep into the water.
“Look out there, Ben!” shouted Bob. “Remember, you’ll have to keep your balance.”
“Be careful, Ben! Look to your paddling!” called Bert.
“Don’t tip her so much to one side!”
“Ease up, there! Don’t lean so far over!”
“Sit up! Lean back! Lie down! Tip over!” called Bob, soothingly.
“Go up the river! Go down the stream! Come ashore! Turn around! Go ahead!” shouted Bert, encouragingly.
But poor Ben was too much occupied with his own efforts to heed the confusing calls of his companions. Twice the little canoe had almost capsized, but somehow Ben had managed to keep it afloat, though he had abandoned all efforts to paddle and was only striving to keep his craft above the water.
“I say, you fellows!” he called in despair. “I can’t manage this—Hi!” he added, as the canoe gave a lurch and almost went over. “Throw me’ a rope! Come out and help me!”
sang Bob, mockingly.
“Oh, come ashore, Ben, if you can’t go ahead,” called Bert, soothingly. “You won’t tip over. I’ll risk it! I’ll risk it!”
“You risk noth—” began Ben, desperately; but his exclamation was not completed, for as the canoe gave a sudden lurch to one side the unfortunate lad leaned to the other to assist it in righting itself. He leaned too far, however, and then strove to reverse the weight. His actions were frantic now, and it seemed as if there could be but one result, and that must come soon.
“It’s going!” shouted Ben, in despair.
“So I see,” called Bob, encouragingly. “Keep it up, Ben! what you need is practice. Practice makes perfect, you know. Keep it up! Keep it up!”
“I’m going! I’m going! I’m go—” shouted Ben.
It was evident that he had spoken truly. For a time or two he succeeded in righting his craft, but each effort seemed to make his condition worse. Suddenly the canoe went over; the paddle in Ben’s hands flew out over the water, and then the lad’s long legs and feet appeared to be lifted into the air, and waved frantically for a moment before, with a circular movement, they followed their owner and quickly disappeared in the river.
“Going, going, gone!” called Bob, solemnly, as he gazed out over the water at the place where his friend had disappeared.
Ben was an expert swimmer, much the best of the four, so that they had no fears for his safety; and the ludicrous sight of those long legs, with what Bob called “their despairing appeal to come over and help us,” disappearing in the St. Lawrence, was more than either could endure. They burst into shrieks of laughter. They hugged each other in their delight, and even Bob laughed until the tears rolled down his cheeks.
“Suddenly the Canoe went over.”
But Ben speedily appeared, and as he started out for the dock, Bert called to him, “Your canoe’s going down the river, Ben; so’s your paddle.”
“The proper way, my friend, to paddle a canoe is from the upper, not the under, side,” said Bob, soothingly. “Take my advice, Ben.”
Ben was for taking the canoe, however, which already was drifting away from him; but as he started to swim toward it, Jock swept past him, and, calling to him to go ashore, said that he would get both canoe and paddle.
When Ben climbed in his dripping clothes up on the dock, the laughter of the boys was renewed.
“You’d have done all right, Ben, if you’d left those feet and legs of yours ashore. They were in the way. There are some things even the St. Lawrence won’t stand.”
“You wait,” said Ben, doggedly. “I’ll show you yet.”
And “show” them he did. As soon as the canoe was restored he insisted upon repeating his experience. It was true that he was capsized again, but he sturdily stuck to his task, and in an hour had, in a measure, mastered the problem, and was able to paddle swiftly up and down the river.
It was dark now, and the boys were soon ready for bed. A pile of logs had been placed before their tent, and as soon as the other boys were in their cots, Jock started the fire. The light of the flames could be seen far out over the river, and it was long before sleep came to the campers. The sighing of the wind in the tree-tops, the rush of the mighty waters, the constant lapping of the little waves upon the shore, the twinkling stars, which could be seen beyond the waving branches, were all novel and strange. Then, too, when some of the boys would be ready for sleep, others would not feel so inclined. They would leave their tent and fire their guns at imaginary enemies or wild beasts. The school cheer, and even the school songs, had to be given again and again, but at last even these experiences became monotonous, and the tired boys slept.
It was not long after dawn on the following morning when Jock and Ben sat up in their beds and looked about them. Both of their companions were gone, but the sounds that came from the river left no doubt as to their whereabouts. Hastily dressing, both boys ran down to the shore and there beheld their friends, clad in their bathing-suits, and practising the art of paddling a canoe without departing from the craft when it was in motion.
Apparently both boys had already succeeded, but even their efforts were ignored when Ethan and Tom were discovered approaching in their sailboat, and all knew that not only would the breakfast for which they were eager soon be ready now, but that their first efforts in fishing in the St. Lawrence would soon be put to the test.
Ethan and his son soon had breakfast ready for the campers, and as they had brought with them from home some dainty viands such as only the housewives of the region knew how to prepare, these, with the food the fishermen cooked, made a repast over which even a king might have rejoiced, especially if he could have boasted of such an appetite as the lads on Pine Tree Island had.
None of them was thinking, however, of kings or of kingly appetites that morning; and when at last the boys ceased, chiefly because even the well-spread table had been cleared, Jock turned to Ethan and said, “Where are you going to take us to-day?”
“Fishin’.”
“Yes, I know; but where are we going to fish?”
“Oh, I haven’t jest made up my mind yet. Mebbe in one place, and then again mebbe in another. Will try our luck till we strike what we want.”
Perceiving that Ethan was averse to committing himself on such delicate matters, Jock called to his companions and they at once began to collect their rods and the various necessities of the day, and by the time they had all things ready, Ethan and Tom had stored away the cooking utensils, and soon after came to the dock.
“Is it safe to leave everything here in the camp without any one to watch it?” said Bob.
“Hey?” replied Ethan. “Safe? ’Tisn’t goin’ to rain to-day.”
“Oh, I wasn’t afraid of the weather. I didn’t know but some one might come along and, finding no one in the camp, help himself; that’s all.”
“Folks is honest here,” said Ethan, gruffly. “I s’pose you have to keep your doors locked down to New York, don’t ye?”
“Why, yes, we usually do,” said Bert.
“Well, I’m glad I don’t live there, that’s all I can say then. I haven’t got a lock on my house over at the Corners, and I haven’t had since I built, nigh on twenty-two years ago.”
“What!” exclaimed Ben. “You don’t mean to say you don’t lock up nights, do you?”
“That’s just what I mean to say. I never had nothin’ stole since I’ve lived here. Folks is honest here, I tell ye. If anything is taken, it’ll be because some o’ the city folks what come down here summers has taken it. The city must be a dreadful place to live in. They say even flowers won’t grow there; an’ if the posies don’t like it, I don’t know what it must be when it comes to huming bein’s and boys. Heow ye goin’ to divide up yer party?”
It was speedily arranged that Jock and Bob should go with Ethan, and the other boys with Tom. The skiffs were at once prepared, and when the fishing tackle had been placed on board, the boys took their seats as the men directed.
What a delightful experience it was, they all thought. The skiffs were models of beauty and grace, and the seats the boys occupied were cane chairs from which the legs had been cut, and were also provided with cushions. Bob was seated in the stern and Jock in the bow, with Ethan between them, and in the other boat a similar arrangement had been made.
As soon as he perceived that they were ready, Ethan grasped the oars, and with steady strokes began to row out into the river. The water over which they passed was clear and beautiful. Scarcely a breeze ruffled the surface, and as the light skiff darted ahead, it almost seemed as if it required no effort to send it forward.
“I don’t know but ye might as well bait up,” said Ethan, when they had gone a few hundred yards from the camp. “I don’t s’pose ye’ll catch anything here, but there’s no harm in tryin’. It’s about time for the muscalonge to begin to run, an’ who knows but ye might strike one?”
Ethan rested on his oars, and taking first one of the lines and then the other, attached a live minnow to each of the hooks, and threw them overboard.
“Neow, let out about a hundred an’ twenty-five or fifty feet,” he said, “an’ we’ll troll till we get where we’re goin’ first.”
Far behind on one side of the skiff stretched Jock’s line, and on the other was Bob’s, and as they paid out the slender cord they could see that their friends in the other boat, which was distant about two hundred yards, had followed their example.
“This is what I call great sport,” said Jock, contentedly.
“It is pretty good,” replied Bob. “At least it isn’t what you call actual labor, except for Ethan. I think it’s rather my way of fishing. I’ve heard them tell about catching trout with an eight-ounce rod, and how a fellow has to crawl through the bushes and tumble over the logs, and then he makes his cast. He mustn’t move, they say, not even if a million million mosquitoes and black flies light on his hand; and then if he succeeds, at last he yanks up a little speckled trout that weighs about four ounces, and he thinks he’s had a great catch. No, I think this is the situation which is better adapted to my precious and delicate frame,” and as he spoke Bob stretched himself out lazily in his chair and permitted his rod to rest on the boat, while he gazed about him with an air of deep satisfaction and content.
And truly there was much to produce that feeling. The early sunlight now flashed across the water and covered all things with its halo. In the distance were the dark green forests, and here and there among the islands, or on the main shore, the rising curls of smoke indicated the location of the cottages or summer camps. The very air was a tonic; or, as Jock declared, ‘it seemed to him it was so laden with life that he could almost bite it off.’
And all the time the two boats were moving slowly and steadily over the water, Ethan pulling lightly at the oars and from time to time glancing keenly at the lines, which seemed to fade away in the river. The calls of the far-away crows or the sight of a great hawk circling high in the heavens above them only increased the wildness of the scene, and for a time the roar of the great city and the sight of its crowded streets seemed only like the memory of a dream. Even the occupation in which the boys were supposed to be engaged seemed unreal, and Bob closed his eyes dreamily and permitted the rays of the sun to strike him full in the face.
“I say, Ethan,” said Bob, opening his eyes lazily, “don’t you think it hurts the fish you put on those hooks?”
“Hurt ’em? Naw! Fish hasn’t any feelin’s.”
“How do you know that, Ethan?”
“They never make no complaint, do they?”
“Yes, they kick.”
“No, they don’t kick. They can’t kick without legs, can they? They jest wiggle.”
“It’s all the same. It seems pretty hard to put ’em on those hooks.”
“Hard? Not a bit. It’s give an’ take with a fish. The big fish eat the little ones, and the little ones eat the smaller fellows. Now it’s only gettin’ what they tried to give, that’s all; and they can’t complain.”
Bob made no reply, and settled back into his former lazy attitude. Ethan still rowed slowly on, casting occasional glances at the lines, which the boys had apparently forgotten. But the fisherman knew what was unknown by the others in the boat, and that was that they were approaching a shoal, and it was not unlikely that something might happen here of interest to all on board.
Suddenly Bob sat erect in his seat and made a frantic grasp at his rod, which had almost been torn from his hands.
“Hold on, Ethan,” he said quickly. “My hook’s caught on the bottom.”
The fisherman smiled, but made no reply as he backed water and swung the little boat around in the current.
“Caught on the bottom, did ye?” he inquired sharply. “Well, that doesn’t look much like bottom!”
As he spoke, about a hundred feet in the rear of the boat a good-sized fish leaped from the surface in the sight of them all, and almost seemed to shake himself as a dog does when he has been in the water.
“Bass,” said Ethan, laconically. “Now look out heow ye play him. Don’t give him any slack. Be careful. Keep yer hand on the reel.”
It is doubtful whether Bob heard any of the boatman’s directions, for he was all excitement now. He stood up in the boat and gave all his attention to the fish, which was struggling to free himself. Again and again the tip of the rod was drawn under the water, and the “zip” of the line as it sped from the reel was distinctly heard.
The bass was well hooked, and for a time the struggle became most exciting. Again and again Bob brought the fish near to the boat, and then, with a dart and a rush, away the victim would go, making the reel sing as the line was drawn out.
“Be careful,” muttered Ethan. “You’ll tucker him out pretty quick, an’ then we’ll have him. Give him the line, but don’t let him have any slack. That’s right. Let him go,” he added, as once more the fish darted toward the deeper water.
Bob steadily held to his task, and when he felt that the run of the bass was ended, began once more to reel him in toward the boat. The fish was evidently tired now, and his resistance was much less strong. Nearer and nearer the eager boy brought him, and soon, peering over the side of the boat, could see in the clear water the movements of the struggling fish. Ethan had grasped his landing-net, and was ready for the last effort.
“Bring him up near the boat now,” he said, “and we’ve got him. Look sharp, and don’t give him any slack!” he added, as the fish, perhaps having caught sight of the boat, began once more to struggle desperately. Darting first in one direction and then in another he made the line cut deeply into the water, while more than once he dragged the rod far below the surface.
“Look out, now! Don’t give him any slack! Bring him up alongside!” called Ethan, as with his landing-net in the water he endeavored to thrust it under the struggling fish.
But, alas! in his excitement Bob either neglected the directions given him or was unable to comply, for somehow his grasp on the reel was removed, the line sped out, and when the excited lad began to reel in again, the tension was suddenly relaxed, and with a quick movement of the boat he was thrown back into the chair.
“He’s gone! He’s got away!” exclaimed Bob, ruefully.
“So I see,” remarked Ethan, as he calmly picked up his oars and resumed his labors.
“But he was a big fellow!” protested Bob, “and I had him right up to the boat.”
“He was a pretty good one,” said Ethan, “but it’s a game of ‘now you see him and now you don’t.’ It’s a good deal of a trick to know how to land a three-pound bass. Still, you didn’t do so very bad for a greenhorn.”
Bob made no reply as he slowly reeled in his line at the boatman’s direction. Greenhorn! Well, there were some things he did not know, although he had spent much time in the city. To his mind Ethan, with all his good qualities, had been the greenhorn; but now the boatman was the one to accuse him of the possession of that very quality. His respect for Ethan went up instantly, and he looked up at him in a new light.
“You’ll soon get the hang o’ it,” said Ethan kindly, as he proceeded to bait Bob’s hook again. “You did first-rate for a beginner. The main thing is to look out for yer slack. A bass is a fighter, and he’ll take advantage o’ ye every time you give him a chance. I think we’ll try it again around this shoal. One strike may bring another.”
“Why do the bass come to the shoals, Ethan?” inquired Jock.
“That’s where the minnies [Ethan meant minnows] are, and they’re the ones the bass feed on. Now we’ll try it again.”
Once more Ethan began to row, and the long lines dragged on behind the boat. Both boys were all eagerness now, and Bob’s laziness had departed. They watched and waited for the longed-for “strike,” and soon to Bob’s great delight he felt the tug upon his line which indicated that his hook had again been seized.
“Now be careful, son,” said Ethan, “and mind you don’t give him any slack.”
Mindful of the caution, Bob worked carefully, and after a time succeeded in bringing the fish up to the boat, when Ethan deftly thrust the landing-net underneath it and threw it into the boat, and with a blow of a stout hickory club speedily put an end to the struggle.
“I ’most always does that,” he explained. “I don’t s’pose a fish knows anything about it, but I don’t like to see ’em go ker-flop, ker-flop! so I puts ’em out o’ their misery. Besides, they’re better eatin’ when ye treat ’em that way.”
“This one is a little fellow,” said Bob, regretfully, as he gazed at the fish, which now had been thrown into the fish-box. “The other must have been ten times as large as this one. That was a monster!”
“The big ones ’most always gets away,” replied Ethan, smilingly. “An’ they grow mighty fast, too, sometimes. The farther away they git the bigger they be.”
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, nothin’; but that I’ve knowed a man when he was out with me to lose a half-pound bass, an’ by the time he got back to the camp or the hotel, that ’ere bass weighed a plump five pound. It’s marvellous like, the way they grow sometimes.”
“Where’s the other boat?” said Jock.
“I dunno. We’ll let ’em look after themselves a bit. We’ll try it here again afore we leave. It’s your turn next to get one.”
Eager to continue the sport, the boys once more let out their lines, as Ethan began to row slowly over the shoal again.
The success which attended their efforts was not great, and after a few more bass had been taken, Jock, to his chagrin, not having even one strike, Ethan decided to leave that ground for another.
“I think I’ll take ye over to Goose Bay,” he said. “That’s where I told Tom to go, and probably they’re there by this time.”
“That’s historic ground, isn’t it, Ethan?” inquired Bob.
“Yes. The British and Yankees had a bit of a go round there in the War of 1812. I’ll show ye jest where it was when we get there.”
“How did you know there was a fight there, Bob?” said Jock, quickly.
“’Most everybody knows about that, I s’pose,” said Ethan, before Bob could reply. “Everybody round these parts has heard of it.”
Bob looked up at Jock and winked slowly. “Do you remember what Oliver Wendell Holmes said about every little place he went to thinking it was the central spot of all the world, and that the axis of the earth came straight up through it? He went down to a little place named Hull, once, and when he came away he said the people there were all quoting Pope, though they didn’t know it, and saying, ‘all are but parts of one stupendous Hull’! Remember that, Jock?”
“Ye needn’t be makin’ fun o’ me,” said Ethan, sharply. “I guess folks round here is as smart as they be anywhere. You city people talk about how green country folks are when they come to teown, but I don’t believe they’re any greener than city folks be when they go into the country.”
“I didn’t mean that,” said Bob, quickly. “I was only wondering a little why it was that you thought everybody ought to know about Goose Bay, and the time the British and our men had here in the War of 1812.”
“Why shouldn’t they know about it, I’d like to know?” replied Ethan, somewhat mollified. “It’s hist’ry; an’ ye study hist’ry, don’t ye?”
“We pretend to; but Jock here doesn’t know much about it, you see,” said Bob.
“He’ll larn. But I was speakin’ about the greenness o’ city folks in the country. Well, they be green. My wife had a time of it with the fresh airers only last summer.”
“The ‘fresh airers’? What are they?”
“Don’t ye know what they be? Well, I swan, ye’re greener ’n I thought. They’re the boys an’ girls the folks pick up off the streets in the city and send up into the country every summer. We had some last year.”
“Oh, yes, I know. You mean the children sent out by the fresh-air fund.”
“I s’pose I do. We call ’em ‘fresh airers’ up here.”
“What did they do?” inquired Jock.
“Lots o’ things. Two of ’em—we had five to our house—was walkin’ along the road with me the next day after they come, an’ one little fellow ran up the bank an’ began to pick some buttercups what was growin’ there. The other little chap was scared like, an’ he called out, pretty sharp, ‘Hi, there, Henry! Keep off the grass or the cop’ll get ye!’ An’ he meant it too.”
“Poor little wretches,” said Jock, sympathizingly.
“’Twasn’t whether they was wretches or not; ’twas their greenness I was thinkin’ on. We had a lot o’ bee-hives out near the back door, an’ after dinner that same day my wife looked out the window an’ she see that same little chap there with a stick in his hand. He’d jest poked one o’ the hives over, and the bees was fightin’ mad. She was scared ’most out o’ her seven senses, my wife was, an’ she jest grabbed her sunbunnit an’ hurried out o’ the house an’ screamed to that young ’un to come on. He didn’t want to come, an’ was layin’ about him with his stick; but my wife ran out an’ grabbed him by the hand an’ they started up the hill ‘lickety-whew, yer journey pursue,’ an’ the bees after ’em. They finally made eout to get free from ’em, an’ then the little shaver was for goin’ back an’ havin’ it out with ’em. ‘Them bugs bit me,’ he says, says he, ’an’ I’m goin’ to go back and fight ’em.’”
Both the boys laughed heartily at Ethan’s narrative, and now that his good humor was restored, he said, “Wasn’t that greenness for ye? That same little chap was a great one, he was. He was tickled to pieces to gather the hens’ eggs. He’d be out in the barn an’ kep’ so close after the hens they didn’t have a chance to hop onto a nest, so that my wife had to tell him that he mustn’t go out there for the eggs except when she told him he could. He teased like a good fellow, an’ finally ’bout noon the next day she told him he could go out an’ get the eggs. He was gone a long time, an’ she kind o’ mistrusted some-thin’ was wrong, so she started out to ‘view the landscape o’er,’ as the tune says; but pretty quick she sees him a-comin’ out o’ the barn holdin’ his hat in his hand, an’ lookin’ as disconsolate like as if he’d lost every friend he ever had or ever expected to have on this earth. ‘What’s the matter, sonny?’ says she, ‘can’t ye find any eggs?’ ‘Yes,’ says he, ‘I found two, but they ain’t no good.’ ‘What’s the trouble?’ says she. ‘They ain’t no good,’ says he, again. ‘The old hen was on the nest, an’ when I scart her off, the eggs was spoiled,’ says he. ‘I guess she’s cooked ’em, for they’re both warm!’ I’d like to know if any country boy could be greener in the city than that city boy was in the country?”
“I don’t believe he could,” laughed Jock.
“That’s my opinion, too,” said Ethan, soberly. “Why, that there boy was the greenest thing alive! D’ye know, he ’lowed he’d never seen a live pig in all his born days. What d’ye think o’ that? Yes, sir! never had seen a live pig, an’ he was a boy ten year old, goin’ on ‘leven.”
Ethan’s reminiscences were cut short, however, for they were now entering Goose Bay. Its wooded shores and high bluffs, its still waters and little islands, in the light of the morning sun, presented a scene of marvellous beauty, and both boys were much impressed by the sight. In the distance they perceived their companions, and as soon as they had been seen, Ethan exclaimed,—
“They’re still-fishin’.”
“Still fishing? Of course they are. Why shouldn’t they be?” inquired Bob.
“Ye’re as green as that city boy I was tellin’ ye of. Still-fishin’ is jest fishin’ still, ye know. Not trollin’ the way I’m goin’ to, but they’re anchored, and are havin’ a try with worms for bait.”
“What do they catch?” said Bob.
“I don’t know what they’re catchin’, but there’s perch there, an’ I presume that’s what they’re fishin’ for. We’ll try the bass, though, a spell longer.”
Ethan rowed slowly in near the shore, and had gone but a short distance before Bob felt the welcome tug upon his line, and, after a contest of a few minutes, succeeded in bringing the struggling fish close to the boat, where it was successfully landed by the boatman. Bob was doing better now and profiting by his mistakes, but Jock had not caught a fish since they had started from the camp.
“What’s the trouble, Ethan? Why don’t I get any?” he said.
“More’n I can tell ye. Bees won’t sting some folks and dogs won’t bite ’em, either. Mebbe it’s the same way with fishes.”
Jock’s ill-luck still continued, however, and although Ethan rowed over the rocky shoal for an hour and a half, not a fish did the eager lad secure. Bob was rapidly becoming an expert, and already had landed a half-dozen large bass, and had lost only three.
“I’ll row ye in-shore a bit,” said Ethan, dropping his oars and taking a tin cup, with which he dipped up some of the water in the bay and quenched his thirst.
“What’s wrong with this work?” inquired Bob. “I’m not finding any fault.”
“Probably not,” replied Ethan, dryly. “We’ll change our tune a spell, and see if we can’t do some thin’ for this other boy.”
Bob uttered no further protest, and Ethan at once sent the little skiff swiftly toward the shore. As it grounded upon the beach he said, “Now you two boys get out an’ wait for me here. I’ll be back pretty quick, an’ we’ll see what can be done.”
The boys obediently leaped ashore and then stood for a moment together as they watched their boatman. Ethan moved out near a low point and, dropping overboard his anchor, took a light little rod they had noticed in the boat, and began to fish. They could see him as he drew several into the boat, and then in a few minutes he came for the waiting lads.
“Wait a minute,” he said, as he drew the boat up on the beach. “I’m goin’ to do somethin’ else. I’m goin’ to have young Jock get a fish if such a thing is possible.”
Ethan walked up the shore, and the boys could see him as he darted in among the rushes, leaping about like a schoolboy. They could not perceive what his object was, but as they had implicit confidence in his ability, they remained contentedly where they were, and Ethan soon returned.
“There!” he exclaimed. “Neow if them fish don’t bite, it won’t be because we haven’t given ’em what they want for dinner. Get aboard, boys.”
The boys quickly resumed the places they had occupied, and their boatman once more began to row. “Don’t let out yer lines yet,” he said. “Wait till I’m ready for ye.”
Wondering what plan Ethan had in mind, the boys obeyed, and Ethan soon started toward another part of the bay. He glanced keenly about him and then peered over into the water. Apparently satisfied with his inspection, he let the anchor fall, and as the skiff swung around before the light wind and settled into position, he said, “Let’s have your lines, boys.”
“We’re going to still-fish, are we, Ethan?” said Jock.
“I’m thinkin’ some on it.”
“What do we catch here?” inquired Bob.
“That depends. Some folks catches one thing and some another, an’ sometimes they doesn’t catch anything at all.”
“Why do you put such a fish as that on my hook?” exclaimed Jock, aghast.
Ethan had taken a fish, a “chub,” he termed it, which must have weighed a full half pound at least, and baited Jock’s hook with it.
“To catch fish with,” remarked Ethan, laconically, as, after inspecting the struggling bait, he threw it overboard. “Now let him take your line and go where he wants to. Not too fast. Go easy, like,” he added, as he turned to equip Bob in a similar manner.
“Ethan thinks we’re after alligators or whales,” said Bob, as his own line began to run out. “Oh, well, we’ll have the fun of sitting out here on the water if we don’t get a strike,” he added, settling back in his comfortable chair.
Indeed it did seem as if no fish in the St. Lawrence would be attracted by such a bait as that which the boatman had provided. Neither of the boys really expected any result, but they were not inclined to protest.
The scene about them was the reflection of that within. A perfect summer day, with woods in the distance, and a silence interrupted only by the harsh cawing of the crows. The beautiful water glistening in the sunlight, and the gentle motion of the skiff as it slowly turned with the slightly changing breeze, increased the sense of absolute peacefulness. The roar of the city seemed like something unreal and something which they never had actually heard. Neither of the boys spoke for a time, and Bob closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Ethan also was silent, but his keen eyes were seldom taken from the lines.
“Your bait seems to be goin’ up-stream,” he said in a low voice to Jock.
Instantly the lad sat erect and looked eagerly at his line. It did seem to be moving through the water, but as yet he had felt no tug, and could hardly believe it was anything more than the motion of the “chub.”
“Is it a fish, Ethan?” he exclaimed excitedly.
“Looks like it.”
“Shall I reel him in?” he inquired, as he started to rise from his chair.
“No, no!” replied Ethan, quickly. “Let him get the bait. If he swallows it for good and all, you’ll have him.”
All in the boat were now following the movements of Jock’s line. The lad had reeled out more, and still it was steadily moving away. For two full minutes the excitement continued, and then Ethan said:—
“Reel in now, a bit. Do it gently, and don’t skeer him. Want me to take the rod?”
“No!” exclaimed Jock, decidedly. “I’ll win or lose him myself.”
Slowly he turned the reel, gazing eagerly all the time at his line in the water, but as yet he had felt no response.
Suddenly there was a yank which almost took the rod from his hand, and which made the reel sing as the line was drawn from it.
“Let him go! Let him go! Ye’ll have to tucker him eout!” exclaimed Ethan. “I’m thinkin he felt somethin’ prick his heart.”
“Shall I stand up?” said Jock, in increasing excitement.
“No, ye’ll be overboard if ye do. Now, keerful! Reel him in when ye can, and when he wants to take the bit in his teeth let him go. There! That’s the way! That’s the way to do it!”
Jock was enjoying the contest hugely. He would reel in a few yards, and then with a savage plunge the fish would dart away again, only to have the measure repeated. Five minutes, ten minutes, passed, and still the contest was not ended, nor had Jock had one glimpse of the fish he had hooked. From its struggles and the manner in which it pulled, the excited lad thought he must have caught a monster of some kind.
He was reeling in steadily now, and peering at the same time over into the water. Suddenly he caught sight of a huge body near the boat and knew that it must be his victim; but the glance was only for a moment, for with another desperate plunge the fish darted away again and the reel repeated its song.
“He’s gettin’ tuckered out,” said Ethan. “Now don’t give him any slack, and look out for your rod, or he’ll snap it in a minit. Keep a steady hand this time, an’ I’ll see what I can do with the gaff.”
Jock had no idea of what a “gaff” was, but he gave it little thought, whatever it might be. The fish was coming steadily this time, and once more the eager boy could see him in the water.
“Now be keerful! Bring him up alongside the boat. There! That’s right!” said Ethan, in a low voice.
“What a beauty!” exclaimed the delighted Jock.
“Keep still, or ye’ll scare him,” warned Ethan.
But the fish was within reach now, and the boatman leaned forward, and with a quick thrust of his gaff drove it into the body. There was a splash of water, the light skiff rocked until the boys were almost thrown from their seats, and then they instantly recovered themselves and turned to see the result of Ethan’s effort.
There was a commotion on board which seemed to threaten the safety of all. The huge fish was throwing himself from side to side, but Ethan was equal to the emergency, and with his merciful hickory club soon put an end to the struggle.
“Whe-e-w!” exclaimed Jock, in delight. “Isn’t he a beauty!”
“That depends,” said Ethan, laconically. “I don’t believe that chub thought he was specially pretty, when he saw this fellow get after him.”
“He seems to have a remarkably open countenance,” drawled Bob, as he pried open the great mouth with the end of his rod.
“’Tis something of a mouth the pickerel has, for a fact,” said Ethan. “D’ye see how the teeth are all set the wrong way?”
The two boys eagerly examined their prize. The mottled sides still glistened and the beautiful markings were all clear; but the mouth, as the boatman had said, was enough to strike terror to all fishes of lesser degree.
“Not much chance for a chub if that trap once shuts to on him,” said Ethan. “If he tries to back out, he only drives the teeth in farther.”
“How much will he weigh, Ethan?” inquired Jock.
“Oh, seven or eight pounds. It’s a pretty fair pickerel.”
Jock was disappointed. To him it had seemed as if the pickerel must have weighed much more than that. His disappointment was still further increased when Ethan added, “They ain’t much good for eatin’. Oh, ye can eat ’em if ye want to, an’ some folks like ’em first-rate, but give me a bass every time.”
“That’s the reason I caught bass,” drawled Bob. “It’s a shame to pull out a pickerel when you don’t want him.”
“Pity about you,” laughed Jock. “I don’t care about fooling with little bass that aren’t big enough to leave their mothers. When I catch a fish I want to get one large enough to know what he’s doing. Hello,” he suddenly added, “there comes the other boat. I wonder what luck they’ve had.”
The other skiff was now swiftly approaching, as Jock had said, and in a few minutes it came alongside. Long before it was near enough for his voice to be heard, Jock exultingly held up to view the immense fish he had captured, and when his friends came closer, great was their astonishment and many their words of praise.
“We’ll go ashore for dinner now,” said Ethan, after the prize had been examined. “Ye’re ready to stop a bit, aren’t ye?”
“We are,” shouted the boys together; and side by side the two skiffs moved toward the shore.
Before the boys landed they discovered that near the place to which evidently Ethan was going were the ruins of some building which plainly had been a large one. The boatman explained that a hotel had stood there at one time, but it had been burned, and never had been rebuilt.
As the boys leaped ashore they all eagerly examined the catch which Tom’s boat had made. There were several bass and a fish which strongly resembled the pickerel which Jock had caught, though it was much smaller.
“They’ve got a pickerel, too,” said Jock, as he discovered the fish.
“That isn’t any pickerel,” remarked Tom.
“What is it, then? It looks just like one,” said Jock.
“It’s a muscalonge. It’s a little fellow, and the first one I’ve seen this year.”
“Ye ought not to have saved him, Tom,” remonstrated Ethan. “If you’d let him go, he might ‘a’ growed big enough to amount to somethin’.”
“I thought of it, but I didn’t know what luck you were having, and I knew we’d want some fish for dinner, so I let him stay.”
“If they’re beginnin’ to run, mebbe we’ll strike one some day that’s o’ decent size. Jock, if ye ever get a muscalonge what weighs forty pound on the end o’ yer line, ye’ll find out that catchin’ pickerel’s boys’ play alongside o’ it.”
“Do you really think we’ll get one?” said Jock, eagerly.
“Can’t tell. Like enough ye will, an’ jest as likely ye won’t. Out with ye now, the whole kit and posse o’ ye,” he added, and the boys turned toward the grove of maples which grew near the shore.
“This is what I call great fun!” exclaimed Ben, as he threw his long body on the grass. “I think I could almost make up poetry if I was to stay here long enough.”
“Your face looks as if it was burning with poetic fire,” drawled Bob.
“It can’t look worse than yours,” replied Ben, as he placed his hands on his cheeks.
Indeed, all four of the boys presented a similar appearance, for the effect of the rays of the sun reflected from the water had made all their faces of a decidedly brilliant hue. Jock tried to comfort them by explaining that that was what was to be expected, and that more marked results than these were likely to be attained before their stay in camp was over. But for the present the boys were content as they lay beneath the grateful shade of the spreading maples. In the distance was the glorious St. Lawrence, and an occasional whistle indicated that yachts were speeding over its course, or that the river boats were passing. Other skiffs had now entered Goose Bay, and as they moved slowly over the shoals or anchored near the “weeds,” it became evident that its waters were well known before the coming of our boys.
It was now noon time, and the leaves upon the trees were hardly moved by a breeze; out on the bay the sun was beating, and the quivering motions of the air under the influence of the summer heat could be distinctly seen. In the distance the calls of the crows could be heard, but otherwise the quiet of the day was unbroken. On every side was the solitude, and as one of the boys expressed it, ‘they could almost hear the silence.’
Yet the impression produced by it all was as strong as it was novel. The struggle for existence, the life of the city, the rumble and indefinable roar of the town, were all forgotten for the time. Here, at least, was peace, and the reluctance of Ethan to leave his home by the great river, or depart from the comradeship of the St. Lawrence, could be readily understood. All four of the boys felt the influence of the scene, and after a few minutes the laughter and conversation ceased, and the young fishermen were as silent as the silent trees above them.
Their revery was soon interrupted by the call of Ethan for them to come to dinner, and with a shout the boys leaped to their feet and ran to the place where the dinner had been prepared. The sight which met their eyes was one which might have done even an epicure good. Both the fishermen had been busy, and the results of their labors were now manifest. A fire had been kindled near the shore, and over it had been placed a contrivance with which nearly every fisherman on the St. Lawrence was provided. A frying-pan and pot had been used, in the former of which small pieces of salt pork and some of the recently caught fish had been cooked, and in the latter were green corn and potatoes. Coffee, also, had been made, and when the boys seated themselves upon the bank they perceived that Ethan had brought other dainties from his home. Huge “doughnuts,” and cookies of ample size, as well as pickles and various other dainties, were there. A large can filled with milk was also placed upon the improvised table, and altogether the “spread,” as Bert termed it, was most inviting.
“Where did you get all these things?” exclaimed the delighted Bob.
“Brought ’em with me in the skiff.”
“Is that what you do, every day you go fishing?”
“’Most always, when I take out city folks. I think they like the dinner we cook about as well as they do the fishin’ itself. ’Long about noon time we usually land and cook the dinner. Every boat has a lay-out somethin’ like ours, though I don’t say every one is as good as this,” he continued, with pardonable pride.
“I should say not,” replied Ben, as the boys all fell to with a will.
For a time scarcely a word was spoken, so busy were they all in the occupation upon which they were engaged. Ethan still remained by the fire, and from time to time brought pieces of the sputtering pork, which somehow seemed to disappear almost as rapidly as they came.
“What kind of meat did you say this is?” inquired Bob, as distinctly as one could pronounce the words when his mouth was filled with the article in question, and at the same time leaning forward to make sure that the last piece on the plate should not be wasted.
“Salt pork.”
“I never tasted of it before.”
“Go ’long,” said Ethan, incredulously. “Ye don’t really mean it, do ye?”
“Yes, I do mean it,” replied Bob. “It’s my first experience; and my only hope is that it won’t be my last.”
“If you don’t stop before long it’ll be your last, I’m sure,” interrupted Ben, himself as deeply engrossed in the occupation as was Bob.
“Well,” said Ethan, “I wouldn’t ‘a’ believed that ye never eat any fried salt pork afore. Why, everybody eats it.”
“I don’t wonder,” murmured Bob, as he dexterously flung a corn-cob, which had now served its full duty, at a tree in the distance.
“I’m afraid Ethan doesn’t think we know much,” said Jock. “He’s been telling us this morning about the greenness of city people when they’re in the country. I’m inclined to think he’s right, too.”
“Well, they be green,” protested Ethan, sturdily. “I had a young fellow from Bosting up here last year, what I rowed for, an’ if ye believe me, he didn’t actually know how many teeth a cow had on her upper jaw. No, sir, he didn’t for a fact; an’ he was in college, too. Mebbe ye don’t believe me, but it’s true as yer life, what I’m tellin’ ye.”
There was a twinkle in Ethan’s eyes as he spoke, which was not lost upon our boys, who were looking somewhat foolishly at one another. Perhaps they were fearful that the question would be brought home to them.
Their anxiety was relieved when Jock spoke up quickly, and said, “Tell us, Ethan. How many teeth does a cow have on her upper jaw? I don’t know; I don’t, for a fact.”
“Thank you! You have expressed my feelings exactly,” said Bert, partly rising from his seat, and bowing in mock honor at Jock.
“She has all she needs, I’m thinkin’,” said Ethan. “If ye don’t know, I shan’t tell ye. I understand all four o’ you boys are goin’ to college, an’ when ye get there I’m thinkin’ some o’ those Latin or Greek books’ll tell ye all about it.”
At last the dinner apparently was finished, and with a sigh Bob rose from his seat.
“This has been a great treat, Ethan,” he said. “If Delmonico or the Waldorf-Astoria can do better, I’ve yet to learn it.”
“There’s one thing they can’t furnish,” said Ethan.
“What’s that?”
“The appetite. It takes this river and the air to furnish that.”
“That’s so; though I hadn’t thought of it.”
“Hold on,” said Ethan, quickly. “We aren’t done yet. Tom, you go down to my skiff an’ bring up those pies an’ things in the box under the back seat. Be quick, lad, or the appetite’ll get away from these boys.”
“Poison things? What do you mean, Ethan?” laughed Bob. “Aren’t you satisfied with feeding us in this way? Don’t you want the trouble of rowing us back to camp?”
“I didn’t say nothin’ about ‘poison things,’” replied Ethan, gruffly. “I was talkin’ about pies. Ye know what pie is, don’t ye?”
“I do that,” replied Bob. “It’s something I have never had enough of yet.”
“I should think ye ought to get enough, if ye have it three times a day.”
“Three times a day! I never have it but once, and then in small doses.”
“Sho! I know better. All folks always have it reg’lar three times a day. Why, I shouldn’t feel as if I’d had my breakfast if I hadn’t had a piece o’ pie and a doughnut along with it.”
“Ethan,” said Bob, soberly, “do you take summer boarders at your house?”
“No, I don’t. We did take some one time, but we’ll never do it again.”
“Why not?”
“Why, do you know,” said Ethan, in a low voice, as if he was imparting a secret, “some o’ those folks bothered us dreadful. Yes, sir; they did, for a fact. There was one o’ the men we couldn’t get eout o’ bed before six o’clock in the mornin’. What d’ye think o’ that? Yes, sir, he’d actually lie in bed till six o’clock in the mornin’! But we must get out o’ this if we’re to do any more fishin’ to-day. Come, Tom, help me clear away these dishes.”
That task was speedily accomplished, and then the sport was resumed. A fair degree of success attended their efforts, and as the sun began to sink low in the western sky, Goose Bay was abandoned for the time being, and the two skiffs were headed for the camp on Pine Tree Island.