“As I wrote you a few days ago,” he began, “I expected to sail from New York to-morrow on a business trip to Europe. I had my plans all made and even had my passage engaged and then like a bolt out of a clear sky we found that Father’s cashier had skipped with nearly a quarter of a million dollars. John Stebbins had been with us for over twenty years and we all thought him the very soul of honor. It comes at a very hard time for Father. You see business has been poor lately and he lost a lot of money a few months ago through the failure of one of our biggest customers and the loss of this money will pretty badly cripple him.”
“Now I know that you are wondering what I am doing up here in Maine but I have reason to think that he’s up here. Did you ever hear of a lake by the name Umsaskis?”
The boys thought a moment.
“I’m not sure,” Bob replied slowly. “But I think there’s a lake by that name up some twenty or thirty miles north of Chemquessbamticook. It’s up pretty close to the border if I’m correct. But Father will know and he ought to be home pretty soon.”
“Well just a few days ago I happened to pass Stebbins’ office and heard him talking to some man whom I didn’t know. I didn’t intend to listen but I was getting some papers out of the safe and couldn’t help hearing what he was saying. He mentioned that lake and I heard him say that he had been there some years ago and might be there before long. As it was pretty near to the time he was to leave for his vacation I thought nothing of it. In fact I had forgotten all about it but after we found that he had left with the money I remembered it.
“I told Father about it and I can’t say that he seemed to attach a great deal of importance to it but when we couldn’t find a single clue to his whereabouts he consented to my coming up here to see if I could locate him. You see Father’s business is in such shape that if it was known that he had lost all the money it would be sure to ruin him. So for that reason, he has not let it be known.”
“Will you let us go up there with you?” Jack asked eagerly.
“Will I? I was hoping that you’d propose it. I hated to ask you but I sure do want you.”
“Of course we want to go,” Bob assured him. “You couldn’t keep us at home with a ten-horse team.”
“And he was saying only yesterday that he hoped nothing would happen the rest of the summer.”
“Oh, well this is different you know,” Bob laughed just as his Father came up the steps.
Mr. Golden gave their friend a most hearty greeting; indeed he was nearly as fond of Rex Dale as were the boys.
“Welcome to the old Pine Tree State again,” he said as he grasped him by the hand.
“The Pine Tree State always looks mighty good to me, sir,” he declared as he returned the grasp.
“Father, isn’t Umsaskis Lake up above Chemquessbamticook?” Bob asked as soon as the greeting was over.
“Yes. It’s some ways above if I remember rightly. All of forty miles I should say. I know it’s pretty close to the border.”
“I thought so,” Bob said.
“You aren’t thinking of going up there, are you?”
“Looks as though we might,” and he told his father of Rex’s mission.
“I’m mighty sorry to hear that,” Mr. Golden declared turning to Rex. “And you think he may be up there at Umsaskis?”
“It may be a pretty slim chance but I believe it is a chance and I just had to do something.”
“Of course.”
“Don’t you think yourself, sir, that it would be a good place for a man to hide up there?”
“Don’t believe he could find a better. It’s about as wild as you could wish for up there and I don’t suppose there’s a white man lives within fifty or sixty miles of that lake unless it’s some lone trapper. I was up there once many years ago on a hunting trip and I remember we didn’t see a soul for nearly two weeks.”
“Then I’m more than ever inclined to think that he has gone there. He is just the kind of a man who would go off to a place like that and I know he came from somewhere in the northern part of Maine.”
“There’s an old legend connected with that lake,” Mr. Golden told the boys while they were waiting for dinner. “Many years ago a large tribe of Indians lived on the shore of Umsaskis. Moose and deer and bear were very plentiful and the tribe was wealthy and happy. Big Foot was chief and White Flower, his daughter was the pride of the tribe. Straight as an arrow she was and she could outrun and outshoot, with the bow and arrow, any member of the tribe.
“Many a hopeful young buck came to match his skill with the bow and arrow and his speed both in running and in paddling the canoe against her for it was known that she had vowed that she would wed only her master in these fetes. But one and all they went away sorrowful, for her arrows always struck nearer the mark than theirs and so swift were her feet that although she even gave them considerable start never was the race more than half run before she had passed them. And it is related how she would paddle her light birch canoe many lengths beyond the outer mark set for the race and then beat her dusky wooer in by a long margin.
“Then one day in mid-summer came Spotted Tail from a tribe far to the west with a message for Big Foot. Never was such an Indian as Spotted Tail. Cast in a perfect mold he was as beautiful a man as was White Flower a woman. It was a case of love at first sight when they met. For two days Spotted Tail rested before pitting his strength and skill against her whom he would wed.
“First came the shooting with the bow and arrow. Frowns of disapproval settled on the brows of many when White Flower’s arrow just brushed the thin reed with the tip of the feather which guided its flight and they watched her with hostile eyes when a moment later the arrow of Spotted Tail split the same reed in two. Did her eyes light up with hope? Who can tell?
“Then came the foot race. When she motioned her lover to take the customary fifty feet start loud grunts of disapproval were heard on all sides and, being appealed to, Big Foot ruled that they should start together. Did White Flower run with less than her usual swiftness or was Spotted Tail really her master? Who could tell. But it was evident that many suspected her when Spotted Tail crossed the line a full foot ahead of her and she threw herself panting onto the ground.
“But one trial remained, the race with the canoe. And now White Flower seemed to be putting all her strength into her paddle. Not a foot did she go farther than was necessary to make the turn and her frail craft seemed almost to leap from the water as she bore down toward the finish mark. Suspicions were lulled as it seemed certain that she would win by a good margin. Spotted Tail was doing his best and his canoe, too, was rushing over rather than through the water. But she rounded the turn a full length ahead of him and this lead she had steadily increased on the home stretch. Then with but a few rods to go a gasp of horror was heard as her paddle snapped fairly in the middle. There was no excuse in an Indian race. The first over the line won regardless of what might have happened.
“As Spotted Tail swept his canoe over the line the winner by several lengths Big Foot waded out into the lake and picked up the pieces of the broken paddle. For a moment he examined them and then, without a word he drew his bow and the next instant his arrow was buried in the heart of White Flower. It was so sudden that for a moment Spotted Tail stood motionless then, as if galvanized into action, he snatched a bow from a young brave and quicker than the eye could follow an arrow sped to the heart of Big Foot. Then with but a single glance at his hoped-for bride, he bounded away into the forest and was gone.
“That is the story of White Flower and Spotted Tail. The tribe moved away soon after but tradition tells that often on moonlight nights a pure white canoe paddled by a figure dressed in snow white buckskin can be seen skimming the waters of Umsaskis Lake. No Indian will go near the place and even the half-breeds give it a wide berth.”
“Did you see the ghost?” Bob asked as Mr. Golden brought his story to a close.
“No. I did not see it,” Mr. Golden smiled.
“It’s a pretty story,” Rex declared.
“Perhaps you will have better luck if you go up there,” Mr. Golden said just as the dinner bell rang.
“I would sure like to see it, or rather her,” Bob laughed as he followed the others into the house.
“How would you advise us to go?” Bob asked his father when they were again on the porch.
“If I were you I’d take the car up as far as North East Carry. Then you can get a canoe there and make a short carry to the West Branch of the Penobscot. Follow that for about twenty miles or perhaps a little more and it will bring you to the head of Chesuncook Lake. Wait a minute till I get a map and I’ll make out the rest of the course. Here we are now,” he resumed after Jack had returned with the map. “Now we’re right here,” pointing with his finger, “at the head of Chesuncook. Now you take this little stream up to Umbazooksses Lake. Then you’ll have to carry across to Chamberlain Lake. From there you see it’s clear sailing up through Pomgoewahem Lake and Churchill Lake into the Allagash River. You’ll find some pretty swift water part of the way along the Allagash and you’ll probably have to make a number of carries.”
“How far do we follow the Allagash?” Bob asked.
“Till you come to the big falls about fifty miles where you enter the river from Churchill Lake.”
“But look here, Father, someone has got things balled up a bit. Here’s Umsaskis Lake right here just a few miles above Churchill.” And Jack pointed with his finger.
“I know. That’s the Old or Big Umsaskis as it is often called. The Little Umsaskis is a much smaller Lake far to the north. Of course,” he said turning to Rex, “I don’t suppose you can be sure which one Stebbins referred to, can you?”
“I’m pretty sure that it was the one farthest north,” Rex replied after a short pause. “I remember hearing him say that there was no other lake within twenty or thirty miles of it.”
“Then it must have been Little Umsaskis,” Mr. Golden declared. “You can see that there’s a number of lakes much nearer than that to the lower one.”
“I think so, sir. But we can take a look around when we get that far and see if we can find anything.”
“That would be wise,” Mr. Golden agreed. “But to come back where we were. When you come to the big falls you will have to leave the canoe and strike off due east. The Little Umsaskis is about twenty miles from the falls and it is uphill most of the way. Pick out the highest peak you can see and head straight for it. The lake lies in a depression between that peak and the one nearer the lake which is much lower.”
“I guess we’ll be able to find it all right,” Jack declared.
“Oh, you can’t miss it,” his father assured him.
“How large is the lake?” Rex asked.
“Well, it’s nearly round and perhaps three miles across.”
“Any trout in it?” Jack asked.
“I know he’d want to know that sooner or later,” Bob laughed.
“Plenty when I was there and I suppose there are now. And we got some big fellows too. I wouldn’t dare tell you just how large,” and Mr. Golden smiled.
“You might tell us how big the ones were that got away,” Jack laughed.
“They’re always the largest of course,” Mr. Golden smiled. “But when are you intending to start?”
“The sooner the better I suppose,” Bob replied looking at Rex. “I thought we could put in this afternoon getting the things together and get an early start in the morning.”
“I guess that would be best,” Mr. Golden agreed. “But I must be off to the office. I’ll see you at supper.”
The boys had been on so many trips of a like nature that they knew just what was needed and by four o’clock everything was in readiness for the start on the morrow.
They were to go as far as The North East Carry on Moosehead Lake in the little car which they had equipped with an electric motor run by the new cell which the boys had invented.
“Well, how goes it?” Mr. Golden asked as he came up the steps and found the boys pouring over the map again.
“All set,” Jack replied.
“Sure you got everything?”
“So far’s I know.”
“Better take plenty of food.”
“I should think we had enough to last an army a month,” Rex laughed.
“And you’ll need a lot. The Maine Woods is a great appetizer as you’ll find out before you get back and you can’t tell how long you may be gone. A little too much is a whole lot better than a little too little.”
“I’ll say it is,” Jack laughed.
“I’ll tell you what I’d do,” Mr. Golden said as if struck by a sudden thought. “I’d take Kernertok along. He knows all about that country up there and I always feel safer when I know he’s along with you. And then he’ll be a lot of help on the carries.”
“Just the thing,” Bob said enthusiastically. “We’ll stop for him on the way up. It will only delay us a couple of hours and we’ll more than make up for the time by having him along.”
Kernertok, an old Indian trapper, had long been a friend of the Golden Boys and it was he who had taught them all they knew about woodcraft and the hundred and one things so necessary to life in the vast forest of northern Maine.
The sun had hardly lifted its head over the horizon the next morning when they were off.
“Good-bye, good luck and be careful,” Mr. Golden, who had gotten up to see them off, shouted as they drove out of the yard.
“Sure thing,” Jack called back.
It was a beautiful morning early in August. The night had been almost cold and the early morning air, was, as Rex put it, decidedly snappy.
“I’ll bet this air’s loaded with ozone,” he declared as he drew a deep breath into his lungs.
“It’s the best ever,” Bob agreed.
“Did you ever see any thing prettier than that?” Jack asked a little over two hours later as they reached the top of a high hill.
“I never did,” Rex declared as he gazed down at the broad expanse of Moosehead Lake spread out like a mirror almost at their feet.
“That’s one of the Coburn fleet,” Bob said pointing to a steamer which was making its way up the lake.
“Looks like one of the boats I used to sail in the bath tub from here,” Rex laughed.
“It’s the Kathadin,” Jack declared. “And she’ll carry six hundred people besides a lot of freight.”
“How big is Moosehead?” Rex asked.
“Forty miles long and a little over eighteen miles wide in the widest place,” Bob told him.
“Some lake.”
“Largest in New England,” Jack said proudly.
An hour later, when about half way up the lake Bob brought the car to a stop.
“We turn off here,” he said as he pointed to a narrow trail leading to the right.
“Do you mean to say that you can run the car over that road?” Rex asked anxiously.
“It won’t be the first time,” Bob laughed. “But you want to hang on with both hands.”
“Guess I’d better use my teeth also,” Rex laughed a few minutes later as he struck the seat.
“If you go through the top be sure and come down through the same hole so as not to make two holes,” Jack shouted.
“I’ll do my best.”
At places the trail seemed impassable for a car but Bob kept on much to Rex’s amazement.
“Do you ever climb trees with this car?” he asked a little later, as it hit a particularly large bump.
“Not very often,” Bob laughed.
“I’ll bet she’d do it at that,” Jack added.
“Not a bit of doubt about it in my mind,” Rex declared.
“Here’s where we have to abandon ship,” Bob announced a little later as he brought the car to a stop. “It’s about a mile through the woods to Kernertok’s cabin.”
“I’m surprised that you don’t drive right up to his door,” Rex said with a grin.
“Trouble is, the trees are too thick together to get her through,” Jack explained.
“And you’d stop her for a little thing like that?”
“You might wait here, Rex, while we walk in,” Bob suggested.
“Not on your life. I want to see his cabin.”
“All right then. Come on.”
“And make it snappy,” Jack added.
“I guess you would have some trouble in getting even that car through here,” Rex laughed a few minutes as he squeezed himself between two trees.
“We’re almost there,” Bob announced a little later. “Give him a call, Jack.”
Jack put his fingers to his lips and the clear shrill call of the whip-poor-will rang through the forest. For a moment they listened.
“Afraid he isn’t home,” Bob said.
“I’ll try him again,” and once more Jack sent the call from his lips.
“How in the world would he know that it wasn’t a genuine bird?” Rex asked.
Bob smiled.
“Jack puts a peculiar touch to the last note which is the real signal between us and Kernertok. I doubt if any one else would notice it.”
“I should say not.”
For the third time Jack whistled and this time almost at once the call came back to them.
“He’s home,” Jack shouted.
“Sure’s pop. Come on.”
Before they had taken more than a dozen steps a dog came bounding toward them.
“Here, Sicum. Good old Sicum.”
The dog with a yelp of joy leaped upon them, but uttered a low growl as he saw Rex.
“It’s all right, old fellow. He’s one of us,” Bob said as he took Rex by the hand.
Thus assured the intelligent animal crouched at Rex’s feet and allowed him to place his hand on his head.
“Sicum doesn’t take readily to strangers but if he once accepts you he’s a friend for life,” Jack explained. “You’re in good with him now and he’ll never forget you.”
Old Kernertok was standing in front of his cabin as they approached.
“Hello, there, Kernertok,” Jack shouted.
“How,” the Indian replied.
“Fine as silk, and you?”
“Injun heap well.”
“You look it,” Bob assured him as he shook hands.
The boys then introduced their friend.
“Sicum has accepted him, so you can be sure he’s all right,” Jack laughed.
“Injun heap glad know friend of white boys,” Kernertok assured him.
“And it’s a great pleasure for me to know you,” Rex replied as he took the old Indian’s hand. “I’ve heard so much about you from the boys that I feel as though I had known you for a long time already. Believe me, they never get tired of talking about you.”
“White boys talk heap too much,” the Indian grunted and the boys all laughed.
“What bring white boys up here now?”
“It’s a pretty long story and we’d better sit down,” Bob suggested.
Kernertok motioned to them to come inside the cabin and as soon as they were seated on the floor Bob told him as quickly as possible about their mission.
Kernertok uttered no word until Bob had finished.
“Injun glad to go with white boys. Injun know all that land. It heap big woods.”
“How soon can you be ready?” Bob asked.
“Ten minute.”
And to Rex’s great surprise it was but a very little more than that time when he announced that he was ready to start.
“I was afraid he might balk on account of that ghost story your father told us,” Rex whispered while the Indian was outside.
“Oh, Kernertok’s too civilized to take any stock in that kind of stuff,” Bob told him.
“You got um heap much grub?” Kernertok asked as they were about to make the start.
“I think we’ve got plenty,” Bob assured him.
It took some persuasion to induce Sicum to get into the car, but by the time they had reached the main road he was quite reconciled to the new method of travel and seemed to enjoy it.
Shortly before noon they reached the little settlement at North East Carry.
“Well, well I’m glad to see you boys. How are all your sorrows and joys?”
The storekeeper greeted them as they entered the little general store.
“Fine and dandy. How are you and all the folks?” Bob replied shaking him heartily by the hand.
“If I felt any better I’d be ashamed, but the Misses she’s a trifle lamed.”
“That’s too bad. Hope it’s nothing serious,” Bob said.
“Doctor said she’d be all right, but she’s got a foot that’s sure a sight.”
“How about some dinner?” Jack asked.
“Dinner’ll be ready in half an hour. Plenty ter eat if the milk hain’t sour.”
“Well I sure hope it isn’t,” Jack laughed.
While they were waiting for dinner they arranged for the loan of canoe telling the storekeeper that they were going up the Allagash. By the time dinner was ready they had their supplies all ready for the carry to the West Branch about five miles north through thick woods.
“Jack, if you and Rex will take the stuff Kernertok and I’ll tote the canoe,” Bob suggested as they were ready for the start.
“All right. But I hope Rex won’t get discouraged on the first lap,” Jack laughed.
“We’ve seen the kind of stuff he’s made of before,” Bob replied. “But we’ll take it a bit easy at first.”
Carrying forty pounds or perhaps a trifle more does not sound very hard but unless one is used to it the load gets pretty heavy by the time a couple of miles have been passed and the weight seems to increase, as Jack put it, by the cube of the distance.
Rex was tired before they had covered half the distance but, as Bob had inferred, he was game and would not ask them to stop on his account. But he was very glad when, after they had covered three miles, the Indian lowered his end of the canoe to the ground saying,
“We rest um. White boy heap tired.”
Rex did not deny the accusation as he threw himself on the ground.
“How many hundred pounds of stuff have we got here?” he asked.
“I’ll bet it feels like at least three,” Jack laughed. “But after you get your second wind it won’t seem so hard.”
They rested for about fifteen minutes at the end of which time Rex declared that he was all right.
As they proceeded the going rapidly grew more difficult as the forest became more and more dense and the underbrush was very thick. This really made it easier for Rex as Bob and Kernertok had hard work to manage the canoe and their progress was painfully slow.
“Hope we don’t have many carries like this,” Bob panted as he lowered his end to the ground for another rest.
“Heap more some heap bad,” the Indian declared shaking his head.
“That’s very consoling,” Jack grinned.
But the hardest part of that carry had been passed and as they went on the traveling rapidly became easier as the trees thinned out and the underbrush cleared.
“Here she be,” Jack, who was a few yards ahead of the others, shouted as he caught sight of water through the trees.
It was half past four when they reached the stream.
“Three hours and a half covering five miles,” Rex said as he swung his pack to the ground.
“That’s nothing,” Bob assured him. “Sometimes it takes several hours to carry a single mile. We really made very good time. How about it, Kernertok?”
“Heap good time for white boys,” the old Indian said.
“Carrying a load through the heavy woods is a different matter from carrying that same load through the streets,” Jack declared.
“Don’t I know it?” Rex laughed.
The West Branch of the Penobscot River at this point is a rapid stream of water which tumbles over hidden rocks and sweeps around bends making it dangerous canoing for any but experienced men. About fifty feet wide here it often narrows to twenty-five and a little further on opens up to as much as a hundred feet.
“Had we better launch the canoe and make a few miles or camp here for the night?” Bob asked Kernertok.
“White boy heap hurry, we go on,” the Indian said nodding toward Rex.
“Guess we might as well,” Bob agreed. “It’s several hours before dark.”
So they hastily loaded the supplies into the canoe and carefully pushed it into the water.
“You and Rex get in the middle, Jack, and Kernertok and I’ll handle the paddles.”
The supplies together with the four men and the dog made a good load for the canoe and it seemed to Rex that the water came dangerously near to the rail. But he said nothing having perfect faith in the knowledge and skill of his friends.
“All set?” Bob cried as he pushed and leaped into the bow.
Almost immediately the swift current caught the frail craft and whirled it around until it was headed down stream.
Once out in the middle of the river the canoe needed no urging from the paddles and all Bob and the Indian had to do was to keep her straight and away from the rocks. And it was not long before Rex decided in his own mind that that was quite enough.
Now a big rock would loom up directly in their path and it would seem certain that they were going to hit it when Bob, by a slight movement of his paddle, would deflect their course just in time. And again Rex would shudder in spite of himself as he glanced over the side of the canoe and saw the jagged points of ledges seemingly only a few inches beneath the surface. Even he knew that it would need but a brush against those teeth to rip a large hole in the bottom of the canoe.
“And I sure would hate to have to try to swim ashore here,” he thought more than once.
He could tell by the rapidity with which the banks seemed to fly past that they must be making fully twenty-five miles an hour.
“If we should hit a good sized rock out here, that is big enough to stop the canoe all at once, our momentum might carry us all through the air to the shore and we wouldn’t have to swim,” he thought as they swept around a bend what seemed to him terrific speed.
The course of the stream had been to the east but the bend was nearly at right angles and now they were heading almost due north.
“I thought streams always ran toward the south,” he shouted turning his head.
“Not up here they don’t,” Jack laughed. “They’re apt to run any old way.”
In spite of his determination not to be afraid and his confidence in the Indian and Bob the first leg of the trip down the river was a trying one to Rex and his mind was greatly relieved when he heard Kernertok shout something to Bob and the next moment the canoe headed in toward the shore.
“Nice smooth run,” Bob said to Jack as the latter stepped out of the canoe a few minutes later.
“Sure was,” Jack returned.
“Eh, what?” Rex asked turning to Bob with an incredulous expression on his face.
“I said we’d had a nice smooth run,” Bob repeated.
“Oh, yes. Wasn’t it smooth? And I suppose a little farther on we get to shooting over falls several hundred feet high you’ll remark casually that there must have been a ripple on the water behind us.”
Both boys let out a roar of laughter and even Kernertok’s stoical face lighted up a trifle while Sicum cocked his head to one side as if trying to ask what it was all about.
“You get used to it after a while and it don’t seem so rough,” Jack assured him, still laughing.
“That’s what the Irishman said after he’d had his second leg cut off,” Rex laughed. “But if you say it was a quiet trip I’ll believe it only I hope we won’t strike any rough ones.”
They had landed in a little cove where was a sandy beach and for some distance out from the shore the water was comparatively quiet.
“Jack, do your stuff,” Bob said as he started gathering wood for the fire.
“What does he mean?” Rex asked.
“Trout.”
“Got an extra rod?”
“Sure.”
“All right. Lead me to it.”
They went a few rods down stream to where a point of land jutted out.
“Now you want to be careful,” Jack told Rex. “They get some pretty big ones in this stream. If you get a strike let him run with it after you’ve hooked him. The only way to land an eight pounder is to tire him out.”
“An eight pounder! Say what are we fishing for, whales?”
“No, trout. But if you get hooked on to a big fellow you’ll think it’s a whale.”
“You go ahead and let me see how you do it,” Rex said and Jack threw a brown hackle far out on to the tossing water.
Splash! Zip! And the line began to run out making the reel whine and sing.
“You got him,” Rex shouted dancing about in his excitement.
“Sure I got him,” Jack replied as he began slowly to reel in his line.
“Is he a big one?”
“Only fair. Mebby three pounds.”
“If that’s only a three pounder what would an eight pound fish do?” he gasped as the line again began to run out.
Jack landed the trout without much difficulty a few minutes later and, as he had guessed, it lacked an ounce of weighing three pounds.
“Now you try it,” he said. “Throw out as far as you can and just let the fly float on the water.”
Rex did as Jack said and the next minute was nearly thrown off his balance as a monster trout seized the fly.
“Got him,” he gasped as he regained his balance.
“And a big one,” Jack shouted. “Let him run. You can’t pull him in yet.”
Rex let the line run out until the reel was three quarters empty.
“Now put on the brake but not too hard.”
“He’s going to take it all,” Rex cried as the brake failed to stop the fish.
“If he does the only thing to do is to cling on and hope the line will hold.”
The reel stopped clicking as the final layer of line ran out and Rex braced his feet for the tug.
“He’s a big one all right,” Jack shouted as the fish broke water far out near the middle of the stream.
“If only this line doesn’t break,” Rex gasped.
“It’s a brand new silk line and ought to hold if he isn’t over eight pounds,” Jack assured him.
“Now quick. Reel in,” he shouted as he saw the line slacken.
And Rex reeled in the line as fast as he could turn the handle. He had recovered nearly half of the line when the trout again broke water and again headed for the opposite shore.
“Let him have it again but keep the drag on,” Jack shouted.
This time, by pressing as hard as he dared on the drag, Rex managed to stop the fish with several layers of line still on the reel. As the fish turned he rapidly reeled in for the second time and had recovered fully three quarters of the line before having to let him run again. Five times the reeling in and running out were repeated. But each time the rush of the trout was weaker than the one before and it was evident to them both that the fish was rapidly losing strength.
“Don’t give him a bit of slack,” Jack cautioned as Rex reeled in for what proved to be the last time. “I’ve had ’em break away after I thought they were all in.”
Slowly, still fighting as foot by foot Rex recovered the line, the big fish came in until Jack, reaching over the bank, scooped him into the landing net and carefully drew him in.
“He’s sure a beauty,” he declared as he held the fish up by the gills.
“How much will he weigh?”
“Not much under eight pounds if any.”
“I didn’t know they grew that big.”
“You don’t often get one as big as this fellow for a fact, but I’ve seen one which tipped the scales at ten pounds,” Jack told him. “But eight was the biggest I ever caught.”
“Well, I guess we’ve got enough for supper,” Rex laughed as they started back.
“And some left over for breakfast.”
“Um heap big fish,” Kernertok grunted as he caught sight of the trout which Rex was proudly carrying.
“He’s a peach all right,” Bob joined in. “Who caught him?”
“I did,” Rex puffed out his chest.
“All by his lonesome,” Jack added.
“He sure was some fighter,” Rex declared as he looked at the fish. “But let’s see how much he weighs.”
The boys always took with them on their trips a small pocket scale and in another moment Jack announced that the fish only lacked a fraction of an ounce of eight pounds.
“And he’s just as good as he is big,” Rex said a little later as he reached for a third helping.
And they all agreed with him, even Sicum who was receiving his full share.
It was nearly dark by the time they had the dishes washed and boughs cut for their beds.
“Do you think that fellow has the money up there with him,” Bob asked as they sat around the fire.
The night air was cool and the heat of the fire was very grateful to them all.
“That’s pretty hard to say. He drew the cash from the bank the day before he disappeared to make a settlement with one of our big customers who is a very peculiar man and always demands cash. It was in thousand dollar bills and so wouldn’t make such a very big bundle and he could easily take it with him. Yes, I rather think he’s got it with him wherever he is unless he’s hid it somewhere. But if we find him you can bet your last dollar I’ll make him give it up.” And the boys, by the light of the fire, saw a look on Rex’s face which was foreign to his usually pleasant countenance.
“We’ll find him if he’s up this way anywhere,” Jack assured him.
Shortly after nine o’clock they were all asleep on their beds of spruce boughs wrapped in their blankets. Once Rex awoke, his sleep disturbed by the cry of some wild animal but he was unable to tell what it was.
“Probably a wild cat,” he thought as he turned over and quickly drifted off again.
The next morning Jack insisted on taking his turn in the bow and somewhat reluctantly Bob gave in to him.
“You want to be mighty careful,” he cautioned him as they pushed off. “There’s some ugly rocks out there.”
“I’ll be on the watch for them,” Jack promised.
They had made only a short distance when, above the noise of the rushing water, they heard the sound of a loud roaring.
“That heap big falls,” Kernertok announced as he turned the canoe toward the shore. “Have to make little carry,” he added as the bow scraped the sand.
“And do you mean to tell me that you’d make a carry for a little thing like that,” Rex asked a little later as he stood on a huge rock and gazed at the rushing water as it leaped high in the air and fell to the whirling pool some twenty feet below. “Just for a little ripple like that?”
“We’ll all wait here while you try it,” Bob laughed.
“Not to-day, thank you. I’ll wait till I get a little more used to some of your dips,” Rex laughed. “But I say, that’s one of the prettiest sights I ever saw. Look at the spray. Niagara Falls is larger of course but when it comes to beauty, believe me, it’s got nothing on this.”
Late that afternoon Kernertok announced that it was only about a mile farther to the head of Chesuncook Lake.
“We stay there to-night,” he said.
He had hardly spoken when the canoe for the first time struck a rock. There was a ripping sound and the next moment the water was pouring in through a rent nearly a foot long.
Almost before he had time to think Rex found himself floundering in the water. Fortunately it was not very deep, not more than four or five feet, but the rapid current made it almost impossible to keep one’s footing. As he shook the water from his eyes, struggling to maintain his balance, he saw Bob and the Indian a few yards below clinging on to either end of the canoe. Jack was nowhere in sight.
“Make for the shore,” he heard Bob shout.
Seeing that they would probably have the canoe in to shore before he could reach them and doubting his ability to be of any assistance even should he arrive in time he bent all his energy to getting himself ashore. A half a dozen times he went completely under as his feet slipped on the rocks but finally sputtering and blowing he drew himself out of the water.
“What’s the first thing a fellow does when he falls in the water?”
Rex looked behind him and saw Jack slowly wading ashore just below him.
“I guess he tries to get out,” Rex panted.
“You’re wrong. The first thing he does is to get wet.”
“Then I did the first thing to perfection.”
“And believe me you weren’t the only one who did it either.”
“I believe you would joke if you were going to be hanged,” Rex tried to force a smile but, as Jack told him afterward, the effort was a dismal failure.