“On and on moved the swift-flying skiff.”
“On and on moved the swift-flying skiff.”
“Get aboard, now. We’ll shoot the rapids, though I haven’t as many of the chubs as I wish I had. It’s too bright and warm a day.”
Both boys could testify to the latter fact, as they resumed their seats on board, Their faces were streaming with perspiration, though as a matter of fact the warm rays of the sun had little to do with that. They could not remove their gaze from that terror-inspiring scene, and as George drew back his sleeves and grasped his oars, they, too, unconsciously grasped the sides of the boat as if they were seeking for some protection.
No one spoke now, and soon the little skiff was caught in the current and began to dart forward with ever-increasing speed. George’s face was set and hard, and he, too, occasionally glanced behind him as if he was striving to get his bearings.
On and on moved the swift-flying skiff, and then, almost before the boys wereaware of it, they were caught in the foaming rapids and swept forward with incredible speed. The boatman was not rowing now, only striving, with an occasional use of one oar, to keep the bow of the skiff pointed straight down the river.
A moment later and they were in the midst of the roar, and the swiftly moving skiff increased its speed. Jock was aware of Bob’s white countenance, and somehow felt rather than saw that the trees and rocks along the shore were rushing rapidly past them. He had no thought of time. He was too excited even to feel afraid. The boat was darting madly forward, and almost before he was aware of it they had gained the foot of the island, and there he discovered that the two parts of the rapids came together and the loud roaring became deeper and stronger.
Out into the united channel the frail skiff was swept, and then the current bore them with the speed of a race-horse straight across the river, till it seemed as if nothing could save them from being dashed upon the rocks that lined the opposite shore.
George had not spoken since they had entered the rapids, and, indeed, the roar of therushing waters would probably have drowned the sound of his voice had he tried to speak aloud to his companions. He was, however, constantly alert, and with an occasional quick strong pull upon one of his oars, kept the boat headed aright.
Just before the skiff came to the shore, and it seemed as if nothing could save them, there was a sharp turn in the current. Instantly George drove one oar deep into the water, and putting forth all his strength, brought the skiff aright, and then it dashed forward down the stream.
There was a grating sound as the boat touched a rock that came close up to the surface, but as the boys, with still paler faces, glanced over the sides to look at the bottom, they were swept onward, and in a moment the peril was passed.
Soon the waters were calmer, and though running swiftly, were not so boisterous, and the tossing waves were all behind them. As Jock glanced back it seemed to him that they had come down a hill of water; but before him the river apparently had resumed its peaceful aspect, and the danger had been passed.
“That was a close call,” said Jock, with asigh of relief. “When we struck that rock I thought we were done for. Weren’t you frightened, George?”
“No.”
“But what would have happened if it had made a hole in the boat?”
“We’d have sunk.”
“We could have swum with the current, I think,” said Bob.
“No, you couldn’t,” said George. “You’d have been sucked under in a minute.”
“Whew!” whistled Bob. “I’m glad we’ve been through the Longue Seaut, but I don’t believe I care to do it again.”
“Where are the other boys?” inquired Jock, quickly. “They were ahead of us. You don’t suppose they’ve had any accident, do you, George?”
“No; they’re down in that bay you can see ahead of us.”
“Is that where we’re going?”
“No, we’ll stop here,” replied George. “If we don’t have any luck, then we’ll go on down where they are. That’s the best place along the river.”
George turned the skiff, and with a few short, powerful strokes, sent the boat into the quiet waters. Almost as if a line hadbeen drawn, across which no waters could pass, the quiet place in the river was separated from the rushing current. It seemed strange and almost unnatural, but the dividing line was plainly to be discerned, and, besides, the skiff was as motionless as if it had been resting on a sheltered pond.
To make them still more secure, however, George dropped the anchor overboard, and then baiting the hooks with the large chubs, threw them into the water close to the dividing line, and resuming his seat, waited to test the “luck” which was to be had in still-fishing in this sheltered spot.
For a time the boys were busy in the occupation which followed. Evidently they had arrived at the right time, and when a half hour had passed, a number of bass and pickerel had been added to the collection already stored in the fish box. After that there was a lull in the sport, and they were more occupied in watching the hurrying waters only a few yards away, than in their own immediate task.
George, meanwhile, had taken one of the dead chubs and, placing it on a hook, dropped the line into the water, and though he had no rod, he “played” his bait so well that in a few minutes he felt a savage tug, and quickly yanked his line on board, though he failed to land his trophy.
“They’re savage this morning,” he remarked, as he looked at his hook, on which the head of the chub was still fast, having been cut from the body as if by a knife.
“Did a fish do that?” inquired Jock, eagerly, as he gazed curiously at George’s hook.
“That’s what he did. I’ve known ’em to do worse things than that. Hello,” he suddenly added, “the other boy’s got something.”
Bob, who was too much engaged to heed his new appellation of “the other boy,” certainly did “have” something. His rod was drawn beneath the surface, and when he strove to lift it, it seemed to be fast to the bottom.
He was speedily undeceived, however, for his line began to cut swiftly through the water, and he rose from his seat in his eagerness. The others were as deeply interested as he, and it was evident that Bob’s strike was of no ordinary character. George grasped one oar and brought the boat about, carefully avoiding the current and at the same time favoring the movements of the excited young fisherman.
“He must have a monster!” said Jock, eagerly.
“It’s a big one, and no mistake,” replied George. “Now, be careful with your slack. There, that’s right,” he added, as Bob oncemore permitted the struggling fish to run with the line.
But Bob was wary now, and had had sufficient experience to enable him to play his victim well. The struggle continued for several minutes, and at last, with a quick, deft swing of his rod, he brought the wearied fish alongside the boat, and George speedily had it on board with a thrust of his ever-ready gaff-hook.
Both boys were excited as they viewed the prize, and Jock exclaimed,—
“It’s a pike, isn’t it, George?”
“Yes.”
“How much will it weigh?”
“Oh, twelve or thirteen pound. Look there, will you!” he added, as he drew from the mouth of the pike, which had been despatched with a blow from the hickory club, a part of the body of a large chub. “He’s the fellow who cut my bait in two.”
“What savage fellows they are!” said Jock, as he examined the bait which George had thrown upon the bottom of the boat.
“They are that,” replied George. “All these fish are regular tigers, and the bass are about the worst of all. Still, they’lltake good care of their own young ones. I’ve seen the bass form a regular patrol in front of some little bay or creek where the little fellows are, and woe be to the fish that dares to come anywhere near them! We’ll try it some more,” he added, as he placed a fresh bait upon Bob’s hook and threw it into the water.
But with the capture of the huge pike success seemed to have departed, and at last George drew up his anchor, and after bidding the boys to let out their lines, grasped his oars, and sent the boat out into the swiftly running current once more.
Again they were borne down the stream with almost incredible swiftness, and soon approached the bay where George had declared they would find their friends. And there they discovered them, trolling back and forth in the sheltered spot.
Their approach was greeted with a hail, and they could see Ben seated in the stern of the boat, even then reeling in a fish. As his friends came nearer he held aloft the prize he had taken, and shouted,—
“What luck, fellows?”
“Great!” responded Jock. “What have you had? How many have you got?”
“We’ve sixty or seventy pounds,” replied Ben, as he resumed his seat.
“What does he mean by that?” inquired Jock, turning to George as he spoke.
“Oh, everybody down here measures a catch by its weight. They don’t count their fish; they weigh ’em, or guess at the weight.”
“How much have we got?”
“We haven’t over fifty pound. Hold up that pike, and ask ’em whether they’ve got anything to match that.”
Jock held aloft Bob’s prize, and called proudly, “Have you anything to match that? Isn’t that a beauty?”
“That’s pretty good,” replied Ben, “but we’ve one that can go you one better;” and as he spoke he, too, held up a pike which certainly was no smaller than the one in Jock’s hands, and might be even larger.
“Dum it!” muttered George, as he began to row again.
“What’s the trouble, George?” inquired Bob.
“I don’t want to go back and have it said that Hank McBride had a bigger catch than I did. I wish we could get a muscallonge.”
“Isn’t it early for them to run?” said Jock. “I thought they came later.”
“’Tis a bit early, but then we might strike one. I’d like to have you get the first of the season, for I haven’t heard of one being caught yet. There always has to be a first, though, and if we could get it, it would make Hank green with envy. He thinks he’s the boss boatman on the river.”
“You don’t wish so any more than we do,” replied Jock, eagerly. “I’d be willing to give a silver dollar for one.”
“Hush!” said George, quickly.
“What’s wrong?” inquired Jock, innocently.
“Don’t let them hear anything about money. If we should happen to get a muscallonge and they should hear you say anything about money, Hank would declare we’d bought it. It’s the way he always does.”
The conversation suddenly ceased, for Jock had felt the welcome tug at his line, and all his attention was required to land his fish. When it was thrown into the boat it proved to be a pike of fair size; but George was keenly disappointed, as it was evident now that he longed for larger game,both to satisfy his own desires and to show the envious Hank that he owned no monopoly of the fish of the St. Lawrence.
The rivalry between the boatmen was a new and novel feature of the sport, and Jock and Bob soon found themselves sympathizing with their own boatman. They were almost as eager as he to add to their catch, and every strike was hailed with a fresh delight.
The sun was now high in the heavens, and, sheltered as the boats were from every breeze, the boys were soon sweltering in the heat. To add to their discomfort the fish almost ceased to bite, and when another hour had passed and not a further prize had been secured by either party, George rowed his skiff in toward the other boat and hailed his rival.
“Hank, isn’t it about quitting-time?” “Yes,” responded Hank, as tersely as George had spoken.
“Where shall we have our dinner? Isn’t Barnhart’s about as good a place as any?” “Barnhart’s all right,” responded the other boatman. “You go over and start a fire, and we’ll join you in a few minutes.” “Keep your lines out, boys,” said Georgeto his companions. “You probably won’t get anything, but you might as well be ready if a muscallonge does come along and takes a fancy to your bait.”
With lusty strokes he turned the skiff about, and once more rowed out into the swift current. Then down the stream they darted, but the novelty was mostly gone now, and besides, both boys were ready for the dinner to which George had referred.
After the skiff had gone with the current for a half mile or more, its course was changed and, passing through the stiller waters, was sent ashore at a beautiful place on Barnhart’s Island.
As the boys leaped out they perceived that the spot selected by their boatman was in the midst of a grove of maple trees, a “sugar bush,” George called it, and the cool shade was so inviting that both threw themselves upon the grass, glad of the opportunity to stretch themselves once more.
“If you boys want to help you might be getting some wood together,” suggested George. “If you’re hungry it will hurry up things a bit.”
Both boys quickly responded to the invitation, and soon had a considerable pile ofbroken branches and driftwood collected in the spot indicated by their boatman.
“It’s just like Hank McBride to leave me to do all the work and then come in when everything’s ready,” growled George, as he placed a small iron pot over the wood and started a fire.
“What do you do it for, then?” inquired Bob, lazily.
“Hey? Oh, I have to. Hank’s been here longer’n I have, and what he says most generally has to be done.”
Neither of the boys continued the discussion, however, for just then they discovered Hank approaching with their friends. In a moment his boat was grounded, and before any one could leap ashore, Jock and Bob ran hastily toward them.
“What did you get? Where’s your catch?” inquired Jock, eagerly.
When the fish box was opened before them they could instantly see that the catch was greater than their own; but they made no comments, and returned with their friends to view their own fish.
“They aren’t all there,” declared George, who now joined them for a moment. “I’m cleaning some for dinner, and, besides, wedidn’t save the little fellows. They’d add to the weight, of course; but it didn’t seem fair to keep ’em just for that. My plan is to throw ’em back and let ’em grow up.”
Hank smiled, and, looking for a moment at the catch, said, “Pooty fair! Pooty good! Ye did real well, George, for a beginner.”
George smiled disdainfully, but the threatened rupture was averted by the necessity of both boatmen joining in the preparations for dinner. It was soon discovered that the intense heat had curdled the milk, which had been brought in glass jars, and that no coffee could be made, but all seemed to consider that a light matter when at last they were summoned by the boatmen.
The dinner was not unlike that which Ethan had prepared at Goose Bay, and the appetites of the boys were so keen that they declared it was a repast fit for a king; and indeed it was. The successful sport of the morning provided an added zest, if such an addition was necessary, and as they ate their dinner, seated as they were in the grateful shade of the majestic maples, it seemed to them all that never had they enjoyed anything more. Before them was the great river, its waters still rushing forwardfrom the force of the fall at the Longue Seaut Rapids. In the distance on the island they could see barns and farmhouses, and over all was the peace of the perfect summer day.
“I suppose this is historic ground, too,” suggested Jock, as he helped himself to a fourth ear of corn.
“I s’pose so,” replied Hank. “’Long in 1812 they had considerable many fracases here. Leastwise that’s what my grandfather used to say to me.”
“Where was the biggest fight?” said Jock, quickly, suspecting that Bob was about to make inquiries of his own, and desiring to forestall him.
“’Twas back by Chrysler’s Farm; that’s on the Canadian side of the river, across from Ogdensburgh. General Wilkinson had command o’ our forces, but he wasn’t much good. Indeed, from what my grandfather used to tell me I should think the American officers spent more time fightin’ among themselves than they did in fightin’ the redcoats. Neither side could lay claim to vict’ry in the battle o’ Chrysler’s Farm, but our men acted so that they left everything open to the British hereabouts, an’ you neversaw a Englishman yet who was slow to use any chance that opened. An’ they didn’t hereabouts, I’m tellin’ you. They were all riled up over our trip to Toronto, and paid off old scores. I believe the expedition, which was bound for Montreal, was given up by Wilkinson after the fight back here. He wasn’t much good, though they whitewashed him in their investigations afterward. But if we’re goin’ to do any more fishin’ we’ll have to be startin’. I say, George,” he added generously, “I don’t s’pose you know the grounds as well as I do. If ye want to, you can come along with us.”
“No, I’m going somewhere else,” responded George, quietly, as he rose to assist Hank in clearing the table.
When at last our boys resumed their places in the skiff, George whispered to them, “I’m after a muscallonge this time. We’ll show Hank yet.”
His confidence increased the enthusiasm of Jock and Bob, and when, after going with the current for a mile or more, George rowed into a broad bay, they were more than ready for the attempt to secure the great fish of the St. Lawrence.
No great measure of success attended the efforts of the young fishermen in the place first selected by their boatman, and after an hour had passed and only two small pike had been secured, George rowed out into the current and went still farther down the river.
Whether it was the brightness of the rays of the sun, or the intense heat of the day that worked against them they could not determine, but the fish were wary, and only a few were added to the numbers already taken.
George, however, was determined to continue the sport, if the occupation might still be called by that name, and frequently expressed his determination to secure a muscallonge, and thereby gain an advantage over his rival. The enthusiasm of his companions visibly cooled, and by the middle of the afternoon all hopes of securingone of the mammoth prizes was gone. They enjoyed the day none the less, and the frequent swift descents in the current whenever George rowed out into it, the variety of the scenery by which they passed, and the goodly sized catch they had already secured, were all sufficient to make them reasonably content.
“George,” inquired Jock, when the boat passed another island on which a farmhouse could be seen, “what do the people here do in winter?”
“About the same as other folks, I suppose.”
“No; but they must be cut off from shore when the river freezes.”
“That’s just the time when they’re not cut off. They can get over to the mainland then just as easy’s not.”
“Is the ice strong enough to bear them?”
George smiled as he replied, “They most always drive there. The ice will hold anything you can pile on it.”
As the boys gazed at the rushing waters, the words of the boatman seemed almost incredible. That those angry currents should ever freeze to such an extent that horses andloads could pass over them was almost among the impossible events, but before they could speak, George went on to say,—
“Of course there are times when the folks are shut off from the shore. When there are thaws or freshets, or when the ice is forming, they have to stay on the islands. But that isn’t for a very long time, and it isn’t so hard as you might think. Everybody around here loves this river, and it’s no hardship to have to stay near by. There was a man from New York up here last summer, and I used to take him fishing almost every day. He was a fine man, too, and when he got ready to go back home he made me a good offer to go back with him, and said he’d give me a good place. But bless you! I couldn’t think of leaving the St. Lawrence. If I didn’t see the heaving waters first thing in the morning I’d be as lonesome as a hen with one chicken. I’ve lived hereabouts all the twenty-six years of my life, and I’m too old now to learn new tricks.”
“What’s that place ahead, George?” inquired Bob, pointing to a town on the Canadian side of the river some two or three miles in advance of them.
“Cornwall. It’s quite a sizable town, too.”
“Don’t you think we’d better go ashore?” said Jock. “We must have a good ten-mile ride, and it’ll be night before long.”
“Not just yet,” pleaded the boatman. “We haven’t got that muscallonge.”
“And aren’t likely to get it, I’m afraid,” replied Jock. “Where are the teams to meet us, George?”
“Right down here. We’ve time enough yet,” persisted George, as he turned the skiff into another bay. “Try it here, boys. We may get a muscallonge before you know it, and then Hank McBride will have to keep still.”
The boys made no protest, though the sun was already low in the western sky. In a few minutes their desire to return was forgotten, for the fish were striking again, and several pike and pickerel were safely landed.
“I think, George, we’d better go back now,” said Jock, as the boatman turned to resume his course up the bay. “It’s getting late.”
“Just one turn more,” persisted George. “If you knew how Hank will talk after weget back, you’d be willing to keep on a little longer.”
“All right,” agreed Jock, good-naturedly. “We’ll take one more turn, but then we’ll have to go ashore. I don’t want to be out here any longer.”
George made no reply, and began to row with increased deliberation. Slowly the skiff was sent up the bay, but not a strike rewarded his efforts. Still more slowly he took a wider sweep as he reversed the course, never once speaking or taking his eyes from the long lines which trailed far behind in the water. Neither of the boys was expecting anything now, and when two-thirds of the remaining distance had been covered, Jock began to reel his line in, satisfied that the day’s sport was ended.
“One more?” suggested George, pleadingly.
Jock shook his head and continued his occupation.
“You might as well take yours in, too,” said George, sadly, to Bob. “I wish you weren’t in such a hurry. I believe we might get a muscallonge yet.”
“We haven’t been in a hurry,” said Bob.“You’ve given us a great day, George; we’ll never forget it, or you. Hold on a minute. Back water a bit; my hook has caught in some of the grass, I guess.”
George obeyed, but as he rested on his oars, suddenly Bob’s line began to run out with a rush that almost yanked the rod from his hands.
“Grass, is it?” exclaimed George, excitedly. “Hi! Look at that, will you?” he exclaimed a moment later.
About a hundred and fifty feet behind them a monstrous fish leaped from the water, and in a graceful curve plunged into the bay again, but all could see that Bob’s line was fast to him.
Then began such a contest as neither of the boys had ever witnessed before. With furious rushes the great fish darted first in one direction and then in another, and the reel on Bob’s rod “sang” as the line was drawn from it. Bob was standing erect now, and, grasping the rod tightly in one hand, with the other attended to the reel. At times the strong rod would be drawn beneath the water, and Bob was compelled to exert all his strength merely to hold on, while the light boat was drawn swiftly overthe bay, and George was doing his best to assist the eager boy with his oars.
“Look out! Look out!” the boatman called, quickly. “He’s coming straight for us! Reel in! Reel in! Don’t give him an inch of slack or you’ll lose him! Hadn’t you better let me take the rod?”
“No,” replied Bob, decidedly. “I’ll get or lose him myself.”
The line was now loose in the water, and as Bob turned the reel in desperate haste, there was a great fear in his heart that the fish had torn himself away; but when at last he had secured all the slack, there was another savage pull and the line went darting through the water once more.
Five minutes, ten minutes passed, and still the exciting contest continued. Bob would draw the powerful fish farther in toward the boat, but every time the muscallonge would dart away again, and sometimes every yard of the line would be drawn from the whirling reel before he would pause in his flight.
“Tucker him out! Tucker him out! It’s the only way to get him,” said George. “Don’t you think you’d better let me take the pole now?”
But Bob was still determined, and the fierce contest was not relaxed. Hither and thither, now up and now down the bay, the fish darted in his efforts to free himself, but Bob was still master. Jock was an interested spectator, but was unable, seated as he was in the stern, to render any assistance to his friend, even if Bob had desired any.
When a quarter of an hour had passed, it became evident that the fish was becoming tired. The lunges still continued, but not so much of the line was paid out now, and every time Bob reeled in he drew his victim nearer the boat.
At last there came a time when he could reel steadily, and, to his intense delight, he could feel the heavy fish following the line. Nearer and nearer came the muscallonge, and Jock, who was leaning over the edge and peering down into the depths of the clear water, suddenly exclaimed,—
“Oh, Bob! he’s as big as the boat! You’ll never get him in here in the world!”
Perhaps the great fish heard his words, or caught sight of his captors at that moment. At all events, he suddenly turned and dashed away again with another burstof speed that made the reel sing merrily. He did not go far, however, and as the line slackened, George said in a loud whisper, “That’s his last turn. Now look out, and if you don’t give him any slack, you can bring him where I can reach him with my gaff. Careful, now; careful!”
Apparently Bob needed no advice, for slowly and steadily, although his hands were trembling in his excitement, and his eyes almost seemed to stand out from his head as he peered eagerly down into the water to obtain his first glimpse of his prize, he drew the fish toward the boat.
Either discouraged or worn out by his struggles, the muscallonge followed the lead now, and with every turn of the reel offered no resistance. Both Bob and Jock were hardly breathing in their excitement, and they could feel, rather than see, that George had taken his gaff and was leaning over the edge ready for the last great effort.
Suddenly George thrust the cruel hook into the water, the boat dipped dangerously, the boys were almost thrown from their seats, as with one lusty pull the monstrous fish was lifted into the air and then fell upon the bottom of the skiff.
For a moment even the excitement of the boys was forgotten in the struggle which followed. With great strokes of his powerful tail the fish struck the sides of the boat until it seemed as if they must be broken into pieces. From side to side he threw himself, and to the eager lads it appeared as if he was everywhere at once.
But George was ready for the emergency, for, watching his opportunity, he threw himself upon the struggling muscallonge, and with a few hard blows of his hickory club, put an end to the contest, and then stretched their victim upon the bottom of the boat, as he was much too large to be placed in the fish box. The contest was ended, and Bob had been victorious.
And what a contest it had been! The great, savage head, the beautifully mottled sides, the immense size of their prize, could be seen now to advantage, and for a moment no one spoke. The feelings of the boys were too keen, however, for them long to remain silent, and in a moment they broke into a cheer which must have awakened the echoes along the shore.
“Well, I guess you aren’t very sorry youfollowed my advice now,” said George, who was the first to speak.
“Well, I rather guess we’re not!” responded Bob, eagerly.
“It’s quitting time now, though,” said George, glancing again at the sun, which was just above the western horizon. “The teams will be up there at that farmhouse you can see yonder. We’ll get some milk to drink there, too, and that’ll help to stay your stomachs till you can get back to the hotel.”
The boat was speedily sent ashore, and the delighted boys leaped quickly out upon the bank.
“You can take the muscallonge, and I’ll bring the fish box,” said George.
Securing a stout limb of a tree he thrust it through the gills of the monstrous fish, and then, with one end resting on the shoulder of each boy, and the muscallonge dragging almost to the ground between them, they started for the house, where George soon after arrived with the fish box, which of itself was no mean load.
He dropped the box on the grass near which the boys had placed the muscallonge, and said, “I’ll get some steelyards in thehouse, boys, and we’ll see how much the fellow weighs.”
In a moment he returned, but before he proceeded to weigh the fish, he opened its huge jaws and began to thrust into them some of the smaller pickerel and pike they had caught. Not satisfied with his efforts, he was about to add some good-sized stones, when Jock, who had been watching the actions of the boatman as if he did not understand what he was doing, suddenly exclaimed,—
“Here, George, what are you doing?”
“Getting this fish ready to be weighed,” replied George, without pausing in his occupation.
“Well, then, weigh the muscallonge. We don’t want to weigh all of St. Lawrence county. The muscallonge will do.”
George stopped abruptly, and gazed for a moment at the boys as if he had not correctly heard them. Their determined manner was not to be changed, however, and as he rose from the ground, he said,—
“Well, I must say you beat all the men I ever saw. Why, that’s the way everybody does down here when they weigh a fish.”
“It isn’t the way we do. We want to know exactly what this fish weighs,” said Bob.
Evidently chagrined and disgusted, George nevertheless weighed the great fish, and glancing at the steelyards, said, “Humph! He only weighs thirty-eight pounds!”
“Thirty-eight pounds!” exclaimed Jock, in his delight.
But even the present elation was forgotten when Hank McBride and the other two boys were seen approaching with their catch, and in a moment Jock turned to greet them with a shout of triumph.
“You act as if you had caught something you want us to see,” said Ben, as he ran before his companions. “Let’s see your fish.”
The muscallonge had not been placed with the other fish, and as Ben glanced down at the row which had been spread in order on the grass, he therefore did not see the prize of which his friends were so justly proud.
“You did well, but we’ve beaten you!” he exclaimed, as Bert and Hank McBride now came up to view the victims.
“That’s pooty good,” remarked the elder boatman. “You’ve done very well for beginners. George is improving every day, and it won’t be long afore he’ll do ’most as well as men of experience,” he added complacently.
George made no response except to winksoberly at Bob, and then turned with the boys to examine the catch which Hank’s party had made.
They certainly had been very successful, and as the fish were taken from the box and placed in a row upon the grass, both Jock and Bob were loud in their words of praise. Several large pike served to increase the effect, and when at last all the fish had been seen, it was perceived that in numbers and weight Hank’s party had exceeded that of the other.
“Come into the house, boys, and get some milk,” called George. “You must be hungry by this time.”
Before entering, the boys all went to the barrel, which stood beneath a corner of the eaves, and dipping from the rain-water stored there, washed their faces in the tin basin. Refreshed by the act, they then all followed the boatman, and seated themselves before the table, on which the housewife had placed a large pitcher of milk and several earthen cups.
The milk speedily disappeared, and the pitcher was again filled before the boys rose from their seats.
“How much shall we pay you for themilk?” inquired Jock, as he turned to go out into the yard again.
“I don’ know,” replied the woman, hesitatingly. “I don’ know jest what it is worth.”
“It’s been worth a good deal to us,” said Jock, feeling in his pocket for a coin as he spoke. “We want to pay you whatever you say.”
“I don’ know jest what it is worth,” repeated the woman. “Do ye think five cents would be too much?”
“Hardly,” laughed Jock, as he handed the hostess a quarter.
“I don’t think I’ve got any change,” said the woman, reluctantly.
“Change? There isn’t any change.”
“Do ye mean to say ye’re goin’ to give me all this money for that milk?”
“Why, yes. It was good milk, and we haven’t been modest in using it.”
“It’s too much to charge!” she said decidedly. “I can’t take so much.”
Perceiving that she was in earnest, Jock did not press the matter, and finally compromised by inducing her to accept fifteen cents. Then as he hastened to rejoin his companions, who now were waiting for himin the yard, and perceiving that the muscallonge had not yet been shown them, he said, eagerly,—
“Come over here, fellows; I want to show you something. You come, too, Hank,” he added; and in a moment he led the way to the place where the monstrous fish had been covered with grass.
As he removed the covering and the great head of the muscallonge was seen, Ben exclaimed in astonishment, “What! What’s that?”
“That,” replied Jock, gently, “is our prize fish, or rather it’s Bob’s, for he caught it out here in this bay.”
“Is it a muscallonge?” inquired Bert.
“That’s what George calls it, I believe. I’m not very familiar with the names of the fish hereabouts, but that’ll do as well as any other, I fancy.”
For a moment the boys all crowded about the place, eagerly examining the prize, and making many comments in their enthusiasm. Hank, however, had not spoken, and after his first glimpse of the great fish, turned away his head and pretended to be gazing out over the near-by St. Lawrence. George, too, affected an air of indifference, which he was far from feeling, and which an occasional keen glance at his rival boatman betrayed.
“I say, Hank,” called Bob, “did you ever see a bigger fish than that caught here?”
“Lots o’ times,” responded the boatman, coldly.
“Did you ever catch a bigger one?” persisted Bob, evidently enjoying the jealous rage of the elder boatman.
“Ho! Lots of times. And when I catch ’em, I catch ’em, too!” he added meaningly.
“That’s what we do, too,” said Bob. “When we catch ’em, we catch ’em.”
“Ye never caught that ere fish,” retorted Hank, disdainfully.
“We didn’t! How did he get here, then?” demanded Jock, quickly.
“Oh, fish is cheap over in Cornwall,” replied Hank, with a peculiar smile. “When I see ye headed that way, I knew ye weren’t goin’ for nothin’.”
“Do you mean to say weboughtthat fish?” demanded Jock, aghast.
“I’m not makin’ no insinuations,” said Hank. “But I knows what I know.”
The boatman’s suggestion seemed toafford intense delight to Ben and Bert, and though they joined at once in the banter, it was evident they did not share in the suspicions of Hank McBride.
“Did you ever catch a bigger one?”
“Did you ever catch a bigger one?”
“Did you ever hear about the fox who wouldn’t be hired to eat the sour grapes?” said George, turning to the boys, and striving to ignore the presence of his rival.
“I believe I have heard that story somewhere,” replied Jock. “Did you ever hear it, Hank?” he added, turning to the envious boatman.
“I knows what I know,” retorted Hank, adopting a line of argument which is not confined to the region of the St. Lawrence.
“You’d better be starting, boys,” interrupted George. “You’ve got a long drive before you, and you’ll be too late to get any supper at the hotel if you stay around here any longer, wasting your time and words too.”
The suggestion was at once acted upon. The fish were stored in the carriage which was to convey the boys back to the hotel, and after they had assisted the boatmen in lifting their skiffs from the water and placing them upon the frame wagons which had been sent down to carry the boats tothe place from which they had started in the early morning, they all clambered into their seats and were ready to depart.
“Hold on a minute,” called George, as he ran quickly toward them. “Who’s going to drive you back to the Landing to-morrow morning?”
“I don’t know. We’ll find some one,” replied Jock.
“If ye don’t mind I’d like to do it myself. I’ve got a good team and a pretty fair wagon, and I won’t charge you any more than you’d pay any one else. I’ll come over for you about eight o’clock, if you say so.”
“All right, George,” said Jock. “We’ll be glad to have you. We’ll call it settled, then, and you are to come for us to-morrow morning at eight.”
“That’s the way to do it,” said Ben. “Don’t you let these fellows have any chance to explain how they got the muscallonge when you aren’t near to put in a word.”
George made no reply, and the boys at once started.
“There’ll be a pitched battle between those men before they get home,” said Bert.
“Oh, no, the’ won’t,” said the driver; “it’s just the way with them. They’re as jealous of one another as all possessed, but they’re good friends, too. But I guess Hank McBride won’t put on quite so many airs as he’s been doin’ of late. He’s a notion he’s the only fellow that can take out a party hereabouts.”
About an hour and a half later the boys drove up in front of their hotel, and, leaving their driver to look after their fish, ran up to their rooms, and speedily prepared for the dinner which was ready for them.
When they at last came out of the dining room and appeared on the piazza, they beheld a small crowd assembled about a spot on the lawn. When they joined the group, they discovered that their fish were the objects which had drawn the spectators. Many were the exclamations of astonishment at the number and size of the victims, and when at last the people departed, the boys were left to themselves.
What to do with their catch then became the question. They had talked of packing the muscallonge in ice and forwarding it to their parents in New York, but the intense heat and the thought of possible delays hadseemed to make that impracticable. They had finally decided to give them all to the proprietor of the hotel, and had just turned to enter the office to inform the clerk of their decision, when a man approached and accosted Jock.
To the lad’s surprise he recognized him as a friend of his father’s, and, after introducing him to his friends, the man expressed a desire that the huge muscallonge should be given to him if the boys had no other plan of disposing of it; and, wondering at his urgency, and aware that the remainder of their catch would be ample for all the immediate wants of the hotel, they readily consented.
It was some three weeks afterward when they learned that the man to whom they had presented their prize had first had a photograph of himself and his two boys taken with fishing-rods in their hands, and the monstrous fish in the foreground, and had then shipped the fish to the editor of the local paper of the village in which his home was. A marked copy of this paper had been sent the boys, in which they read a long account of the struggle this man and his boys had in catching the muscallonge,and how, at last, success had crowned their efforts, and in their generosity they had sent their prize, “which weighed some sixty pounds,” to the editor himself. Great are the ways of fishermen, and marvellous the increase in weight which some fish attain after they have been drawn from their native waters! All that, however, is an outside matter, and as our boys did not learn of the various uses to which their prize was assigned until weeks had passed, it has no legitimate part in the records of this story.
Promptly at the appointed hour on the following morning George appeared before the hotel, and the boys took their seats in his wagon to be carried back to the Landing. It was evident that George was in no wise downcast over the envious charges of his rival boatman on the preceding day, and as they rode on he explained to them many of the points of interest in the region.
As there was an abundance of time before the departure of their boat for Ogdensburgh, they were all eager to examine the places he described, and as he had dwelt particularly upon the attractions of a neighboring cemetery,—“graveyard,” George called it,—they consented to stop and visit it.
It was a quaint little spot, and its humble headstones indicated that the great cloud which hangs low over all mankind was not wanting even in the healthful region of the great river. But what had been of peculiar interest to George was the inscription on some of the headstones, and as he pointed out one after another, his companions were soon as interested as he.
“Hold on, fellows,” said Bob, taking out a note-book and pencil as he spoke; “I must have this one.”
The boys waited while Bob made an exact copy of the epitaph, and this is what he found:—