by Quincy Allen
CHAPTER XXII.
THE RIVALS.
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 hadpassed, a number of bass and pickerel had been added to the collectionalready stored in the fish box. After that there was a lull in thesport, and they were more occupied in watching the hurrying watersonly a few yards away, than in their own immediate task.
George, meanwhile, had taken one of the dead chubs and, placing it ona 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 histrophy.
"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 thebody as if by a knife.
"Did a fish do that?" inquired Jock, eagerly, as he gazed curiously atGeorge'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 "theother boy," certainly did "have" something. His rod was drawn beneaththe surface, and when he strove to lift it, it seemed to be fast tothe bottom.
He was speedily undeceived, however, for his line began to cut swiftlythrough the water, and he rose from his seat in his eagerness. Theothers were as deeply interested as he, and it was evident that Bob'sstrike was of no ordinary character. George grasped one oar andbrought the boat about, carefully avoiding the current and at the sametime 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 carefulwith your slack. There, that's right," he added, as Bob once morepermitted the struggling fish to run with the line.
But Bob was wary now, and had had sufficient experience to enable himto play his victim well. The struggle continued for several minutes,and at last, with a quick, deft swing of his rod, he brought thewearied fish alongside the boat, and George speedily had it on boardwith 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 hedrew from the mouth of the pike, which had been despatched with a blowfrom the hickory club, a part of the body of a large chub. "He's thefellow who cut my bait in two."
"What savage fellows they are!" said Jock, as he examined the baitwhich 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'll take goodcare of their own young ones. I've seen the bass form a regular patrolin front of some little bay or creek where the little fellows are, andwoe be to the fish that dares to come anywhere near them! We'll try itsome more," he added, as he placed a fresh bait upon Bob's hook andthrew 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 tolet out their lines, grasped his oars, and sent the boat out into theswiftly running current once more.
Again they were borne down the stream with almost incredibleswiftness, and soon approached the bay where George had declared theywould find their friends. And there they discovered them, trollingback and forth in the sheltered spot.
Their approach was greeted with a hail, and they could see Ben seatedin the stern of the boat, even then reeling in a fish. As his friendscame 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 hespoke.
"Oh, everybody down here measures a catch by its weight. They don'tcount 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 whetherthey've got anything to match that."
Jock held aloft Bob's prize, and called proudly, "Have you anything tomatch that? Isn't that a beauty?"
"That's pretty good," replied Ben, "but we've one that can go you onebetter;" and as he spoke he, too, held up a pike which certainly wasno 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 abigger catch than I did. I wish we could get a muscallonge."
"Isn't it early for them to run?" said Jock. "I thought they camelater."
"'Tis a bit early, but then we might strike one. I'd like to have youget the first of the season, for I haven't heard of one being caughtyet. 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 onthe river."
"You don't wish so any more than we do," replied Jock, eagerly. "I'dbe 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 geta muscallonge and they should hear you say anything about money, Hankwould declare we'd bought it. It's the way he always does."
The conversation suddenly ceased, for Jock had felt the welcome tug athis line, and all his attention was required to land his fish. When itwas thrown into the boat it proved to be a pike of fair size; butGeorge was keenly disappointed, as it was evident now that he longedfor larger game, both to satisfy his own desires and to show theenvious 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 thesport, and Jock and Bob soon found themselves sympathizing with theirown 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 werefrom every breeze, the boys were soon sweltering in the heat. To addto their discomfort the fish almost ceased to bite, and when anotherhour had passed and not a further prize had been secured by eitherparty, George rowed his skiff in toward the other boat and hailed hisrival.
"Hank, isn't it about quitting-time?" "Yes," responded Hank, astersely as George had spoken.
"Where shall we have our dinner? Isn't Barnhart's about as good aplace 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 George to his companions. "Youprobably won't get anything, but you might as well be ready if amuscallonge does come along and takes a fancy to your bait."
With lusty strokes he turned the skiff about, and once more rowed outinto the swift current. Then down the stream they darted, but thenovelty was mostly gone now, and besides, both boys were ready for thedinner to which George had referred.
After the skiff had gone with the current for a half mile or more, itscourse was changed and, passing through the stiller waters, was sentashore at a beautiful place on Barnhart's Island.
As the boys leaped out they perceived that the spot selected by theirboatman 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 threwthemselves upon the grass, glad of the opportunity to stretchthemselves 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 aconsiderable pile of broken branches and driftwood c
ollected in thespot indicated by their boatman.
"It's just like Hank McBride to leave me to do all the work and thencome in when everything's ready," growled George, as he placed a smalliron 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 hesays most generally has to be done."
Neither of the boys continued the discussion, however, for just thenthey discovered Hank approaching with their friends. In a moment hisboat was grounded, and before any one could leap ashore, Jock and Bobran 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 thatthe catch was greater than their own; but they made no comments, andreturned with their friends to view their own fish.
"They aren't all there," declared George, who now joined them for amoment. "I'm cleaning some for dinner, and, besides, we didn't savethe little fellows. They'd add to the weight, of course; but it didn'tseem fair to keep 'em just for that. My plan is to throw 'em back andlet 'em grow up."
Hank smiled, and, looking for a moment at the catch, said, "Pootyfair! Pooty good! Ye did real well, George, for a beginner."
George smiled disdainfully, but the threatened rupture was averted bythe 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 bemade, but all seemed to consider that a light matter when at last theywere 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 arepast fit for a king; and indeed it was. The successful sport of themorning provided an added zest, if such an addition was necessary, andas they ate their dinner, seated as they were in the grateful shade ofthe majestic maples, it seemed to them all that never had they enjoyedanything more. Before them was the great river, its waters stillrushing forward from the force of the fall at the Longue SeautRapids. In the distance on the island they could see barns andfarmhouses, and over all was the peace of the perfect summer day.
"I suppose this is historic ground, too," suggested Jock, as he helpedhimself to a fourth ear of corn.
"I s'pose so," replied Hank. "'Long in 1812 they had considerable manyfracases here. Leastwise that's what my grandfather used to say tome."
"Where was the biggest fight?" said Jock, quickly, suspecting that Bobwas 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 theriver, across from Ogdensburgh. General Wilkinson had command o' ourforces, but he wasn't much good. Indeed, from what my grandfather usedto tell me I should think the American officers spent more timefightin' among themselves than they did in fightin' the redcoats.Neither side could lay claim to vict'ry in the battle o' Chrysler'sFarm, but our men acted so that they left everything open to theBritish hereabouts, an' you never saw a Englishman yet who was slowto 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 oldscores. I believe the expedition, which was bound for Montreal, wasgiven up by Wilkinson after the fight back here. He wasn't much good,though they whitewashed him in their investigations afterward. But ifwe'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 aswell as I do. If ye want to, you can come along with us."
"No, I'm going somewhere else," responded George, quietly, as he roseto assist Hank in clearing the table.
When at last our boys resumed their places in the skiff, Georgewhispered to them, "I'm after a muscallonge this time. We'll show Hankyet."
His confidence increased the enthusiasm of Jock and Bob, and when,after going with the current for a mile or more, George rowed into abroad bay, they were more than ready for the attempt to secure thegreat fish of the St. Lawrence.
