CHAPTER XIII
GLORIOUS SPORT WITH THE TROUT
WITH lusty strokes the two boys urged the boat up-stream. The Indiansat amidship and seemed to be scanning the shore as though deeplyinterested in everything he saw; though, from what he told JasperWilliams, the locality must have been familiar to him, since he knewall about the fishing to be had in the smaller stream.
Now and then the boys exchanged a few words, though as a rule they keptmost of their "wind," as Roger called it, for their arduous work.
"I wonder what Jasper Williams meant," remarked Roger, after they hadgone possibly a full mile.
"Of course you mean when he said there was a difference between red andwhite," Dick suggested. "I was thinking of the same thing myself, andcame to the conclusion it must have been Jasper's way of telling us tokeep an eye on our dusky pilot here. In plain words, he warned us tolook out for our guns."
"Which we will certainly be sure to do!" commented Roger. "Though,after all, we may be wronging the poor Indian by our suspicions."
"If he never knows it there can be no harm done, don't you see?" Dicktold him.
Various things about the shore attracted their attention just then, andfor the time being they forgot all about the red man, and the warninggiven by their old frontiersman friend, Jasper Williams.
"The farther we go up the river," Dick was saying, "the greater theforests seem to become. From all I've been able to learn, we will passthrough many a stretch of wood before we reach the foot of the bigmountains."
"Yes," added Roger, "and, as the river is getting more and more shallowevery day, Captain Lewis seems to believe we must soon abandon ourboats, and take to the horses for the rest of the journey."
"Look up ahead and on the left, you will see signs of a stream cominginto the Missouri. That must be where we are to stop."
At that Dick made gestures to the Indian, who, quickly comprehendingwhat was wanted, nodded his head in the affirmative.
"Yes, he says that is the place," Roger observed, as he started to putstill a little more vim into his strokes with the paddle, so, as Dickwas compelled to follow suit, or have the boat headed in toward theshore, their progress increased to a wonderful degree.
In good time they reached the mouth of the tributary stream. It wasfound to be as clear and cold as any one could wish on a warm day. Nowonder, Roger thought, the trout loved to frequent its waters, and liein the deep, dark pools that doubtless existed here and there, thoughwithout a guide they could have been found only after much patientsearching.
Obeying the gestures of the Indian, they made for the shore and leftthe boat, first making sure that it was pulled well up. Of course,besides their poles and the little box of bait, they carried theirfaithful guns along with them.
So far as they could see, the friendly Indian seemed to be almostas deeply interested in the outcome of the fishing trip as the boysthemselves were. He immediately led them to a certain spot on the bank,holding up a hand to impress upon them the need of caution and silencewhen attempting to catch the wary fish of many colors.
Roger was already prepared, for he had fastened one of the largest andmost attractive grubs to his hook. Creeping up close to the edge of thebank he thrust his long pole carefully forward, and allowed the baitedhook, with a small lead sinker attached to the line a foot above, tosink into the depths.
As it slowly descended Roger's heart was beating tumultuously,for he had been entertaining high hopes. These were not doomed todisappointment, for, even before he found bottom, there was a suddenvicious tug, and the end of the stout pole began to move up and downvigorously.
Immediately Roger, who had laid his gun down at his feet so as to havethe free use of both hands, hunched his shoulders in the effort to lifthis prize. As it came struggling out of the water, he switched it highin the air and it fell with a thud some little distance behind theexcited fisherman. At this good luck Roger could hardly contain himself.
A warning "hist" from Dick told him to repress the shout of triumphthat was bubbling to his lips, and he realized the necessity forsilence if they expected to continue the sport, as the trout areeasily alarmed.
The capture proved to be a magnificent specimen of the lovely varietyof trout that differed from anything either of the boys had ever seenbefore. In later years this vigorous species of fighter was classified,and given the deserved name of "rainbow trout," and for a very goodreason, as any one who has ever seen one fresh drawn from the waterwill admit.
Meanwhile Dick started in to try his luck, and it certainly began tolook as though the Indian had told only the truth when he said the fishlay in countless numbers in those deep shadowy pools, for, just as hadhappened in Roger's case, there was a fierce pull on his pole, and Dickfound himself struggling with a captive that it required all his powersto land successfully.
So the sport progressed, the friendly Indian hovering near them andoften, when the bites came less frequently, leading the way to some newspot on the bank, where another pool would be found.
Always did they find these places inhabited by a hungry family oftrout, eager to snap at the attractive lure which was dangled in frontof them.
The Indian gathered up the spoils as they went along. He knew just howto fashion a tether out of tough but yielding willow, and, when half adozen of the trout had been strung in this manner, he saw to it thatthey were placed in the water to keep fresh, while the sport continuedas before.
Roger was enjoying himself as he had hardly ever done before. Suchroyal fishing, and such game fighters made a combination that oughtto have been sufficient to fill any boy's heart with supreme joy,especially one so devoted to the sport as Roger had always been.
Dick did not lose his head over the wonderful success that was comingtheir way. Because Roger gave himself up so wholly to the excitementwas a very good reason why Dick himself should do the watching for bothof them.
And yet it seemed almost absurd to suspect that anything evil could bethreatening them on that bright summer morning. The very insects seemedto hum more noisily than usual, as though with the pleasure of livingon such a perfect day.
Dick often cast a side glance toward the Indian, but so far he had seenabsolutely nothing suspicious in his manner. He seemed to be as happyas Roger, and kept close to the heels of the boy as he worked his longrod, and added constantly to the number of fish he was taking.
It seemed as though each one of the grubs was good for a fat trout, andso savagely did the fish snap at them that they were securely hooked innearly every instance, so that the losses were next to nothing.
If things continued to go on as they were doing, they would soon bein possession of all the fish the camp could use. Roger even told hischum in a whisper that, unless they looked out, they would be unable tocarry the whole of their taking back in one trip of the boat, thoughpossibly that was only meant in the light of a boast.
Dick's arms were beginning to ache on account of the strain on themuscles caused by raising so many heavy prizes over his head. He wouldhave suggested that they had quite a large mess now, and perhaps hadbetter go back to camp, allowing some of the others the pleasure ofcoming up later and trying their luck; but he knew Roger well enoughto feel sure that the other would decline to quit fishing as long as asingle grub remained.
At any rate, when the supply was really exhausted, Dick meant todecline to linger any longer, or to look for a new lot of bait.
For the moment the fish seemed to have stopped biting.
"We have only about six more grubs left, Dick," said Roger, afterexamining the contents of the bait box, "and that ought to mean as manyfish, if the Indian guide knows of still another good hole. I'm goingto try to ask him. And, Dick, I promise you on my word of honor thatI'll agree to quit when we use up the last bait. I can see that you'regetting tired. You never were as crazy over the sport as I have alwaysbeen."
"It's a bargain then, Roger," assented the other, pleased to know thathis comrade meant to be reasonable about it, f
or he had half-expectedtrouble in trying to tear the other away from such a fascinating game.
Roger accordingly began to make motions to the Indian, and the othermust have understood what he wanted, for he nodded his head, andbeckoned to them to follow where he led.
Dick would rather have remained where he stood, but he did not wishto have Roger go off alone with the Indian brave, so he went along.He thought the copper-colored visitor at the camp showed even moreeagerness than at any previous time in the immediate past, as thoughhe had been keeping the finest place of all to the last, in order tofurther astonish them.
Indeed, when Dick saw Roger drag out a trout that exceeded all the restin size and fierceness he decided that he had guessed the true reasonfor that look he had detected on the usually emotionless face of thebrave.
Again did Roger drop his baited hook in, and with a similar result. Hewas fairly trembling with the excitement, and, too, a little weariness;but according to his count there still remained four more grubs, andthe work must proceed. As Dick seemed bent on letting him finish thetale, Roger, nothing averse, set to work to get his hook in readinessonce more.
The spot was a picturesque one. Several large trees grew close to theedge of the stream, casting their shadows upon the water just where thedeep pool lay. In the dusky depth the trout were lying, and hungry atthat. Dick could not remember of ever having seen such a combinationof scenery and splendid fishing grounds, and he believed the memory ofthat day would always be marked with a white stone in their lives.
It certainly was destined to be remembered, but not on these accountsalone. There were other reasons why the pioneer boys would look back tothat sunny day and conjure up ghosts of the past.
Roger was making good his boast that he meant to take six fish withthose half dozen grubs, for already a third one had been pulled in.
The Indian, apparently just as deeply interested in the sport as Rogerhimself, was hanging at the boy's elbow, and every now and then makinggestures as though showing him where to drop his hook the next time.It seemed as though his wonderful eyes were able to pierce those darkdepths and discover where the largest fish was lazily working his fins,as he faced the current, waiting for something suited to his taste tocome within striking distance.
There was nothing at all suspicious about this, and Dick was beginningto believe the vague fears that had oppressed him must have been theresult of too much imagination, when without the slightest warningsomething happened.
He saw a dark object drop from the branches of the tree directly uponthe back and shoulders of poor Roger, who was instantly carried to theground. Dick's first inclination was to give a shout, and raise hisgun, for he had seen their dusky guide pounce upon the weapon whichRoger had laid on the grass at his feet.
Before Dick could make a move, however, he too felt a heavy weightstrike him on the shoulders so that he was knocked to his back; and, ashe lay there gasping for breath, he looked up into the painted faces ofseveral Indian warriors who came dropping from the trees as though theywere over-ripe plums in a gale of wind.
After all, the supposed friendly Indian had played them false, and hadactually led the two boys into a cleverly arranged ambuscade.
The Pioneer Boys of the Columbia; or, In the Wilderness of the Great Northwest Page 16
