FISHING.
The morning sunshine lay like shining silver on the placid bosom of
beautiful Lake Sebasticook. Not a cloud hung in the blue sky, and it was
a perfect summer morning, for the sun was not yet high enough to make
the air uncomfortably warm.
Near the mouth of a stream that empties into the northern end of the
lake floated a canoe that contained two persons who were fishing. The
occupants of the canoe were Frank Merriwell and Bart Hodge. In the
bottom of the canoe lay more than a dozen large white perch, glittering
in the sunlight. That they were a fresh catch was evident, for they had
not lost their silvery luster, and occasionally some of them flopped
about in a frantic endeavor to get back into the water.
“Well, they are beauties!” cried Hodge, as he gazed at them in
admiration; “and we did rope them in fast for a few minutes.”
“That’s what we did,” nodded Frank. “I wonder why they stopped biting so
suddenly.”
“Don’t know. What are those splashes on the water over that way?”
“I know!” exclaimed Frank, suddenly beginning to reel in his line with
great swiftness. “Pull in, Hodge—pull in!”
“What for?”
“Don’t ask questions! Pull in!”
Bart obeyed, and the boys quickly reeled their lines.
“Now,” said Frank, catching a paddle, “to get on the farther side of
those splashes.”
“All right,” came from Hodge, as he got into position for using his
paddle, kneeling in the canoe. “Here we go!”
The thin blades dipped and rose from the water, flashing in the
sunshine. They plied the paddles with regularity and skill, making not
the least splashing.
Frank steered, and he set a course that surprised Bart, who asked:
“Where are we going?”
“Round that splashing,” was the answer. “We want to get on the farther
side.”
“Why are we going round?”
“To get ahead of those fish.”
“Why not go straight through?”
“We might divide the school, or cause the fish to sink. Those are the
perch we struck a short time ago. A few of them were jumping then, and
now the whole school is near the surface. Those fish are making for a
feeding ground.”
In a short time they passed round the school and lay before them.
With great haste, Frank unreeled his line, baited his hook and flung it
far from him. Hodge followed his example, but did not let the hook sink
far before, seeing a great splashing in another direction, he began to
pull in. He had not drawn the hook far before something took it with a
jerk and darted away.
“Great Scott!” cried Hodge, excitedly. “What a bite!”
“Pull him in!” said Frank.
Hodge obeyed, and the fish darted from side to side, the line cutting
into Bart’s fingers with the fierce plunges of the finny fellow.
Up to the side of the canoe Hodge pulled the fish. The bright sunshine
showed something white that darted and plunged in a mad endeavor to
break away, and then, at the last moment, seemed to give up exhausted.
Then, being able to see the fish plainly, Hodge stopped, uttering a gasp
of astonishment.
“What is it, Merry?” he asked, in a flutter. “It can’t be a white perch,
for it’s too big.”
“Pull it in, and then we’ll see.”
But Bart had slackened at the wrong time, and now the great fish gave a
flop and escaped from the hook. There was a flash of silver plunging
downward, and the fish was gone.
Bart was exasperated.
“What a stupid fellow I am!” he growled. “But that fish was so big! He
was too large for a perch, and——”
Frank was drawing in his line to give it another throw. All at once, it
gave a jerk and slipped through his fingers, then he began to pull away
hand over hand, while the line cut here and there through the water.
“You have one!” cried Bart, excitedly. “Don’t let him get away as I did,
Merry! Jingoes! but he is doing some fancy dodging!”
Up to the surface darted the fish and up into the air he leaped like a
flash of light out of the water.
“Oh!” shouted Hodge, starting to rise in his excitement. “What a dandy!”
“Get down!” commanded Frank, quickly. “You will have this canoe bottom
up if you do that again! It’s a wonder you didn’t turn her over then!”
“That’s so,” agreed Bart, who was familiar with the cranky tricks of
canoes; “but I couldn’t keep still.”
Into the canoe Frank pulled his catch, and both lads stared at the fish,
for it was larger than four of the large ones of their first lot.
“Can that be a white perch?” gurgled Hodge, amazed. “It doesn’t look
just like the others.”
“Whatever it is, there are more out there,” said Frank. “Get after them,
Bart. We’ll daze the fellows when we bring in a mess of these dandies.”
Hodge had arranged a tempting bait on his hook, and now he made a fancy
throw that carried the whole length of the line out of the boat. The
hook struck far away on the water and sank, while the fish Frank had
caught flopped in the bottom of the canoe, stirring up the others to a
merry, pattering dance.
“Pull in by the time your hook sinks three or four feet,” said Frank,
looking after his own bait. “These big fellows are on the surface.”
Bart obeyed, and he had not drawn his hook a third of the way to the
canoe before it was snapped up, bringing a little cry of satisfaction
from his lips.
“Oh, this is sport!” he exclaimed. “I thought we had fun with those
little fellows.”
“Those little fellows!” laughed Frank. “A short time ago you were
calling them beauties.”
“They seemed so then, but these are so much larger—no you don’t, old
chap!—and they are so much whiter! I hope we can get a big mess of
them!”
Then Bart snapped into the boat a fish quite as large as the one
Merriwell had caught. He held the shining beauty up and feasted his eyes
on the spectacle a moment. Then the hook was removed, and the fish was
tossed down to help stir up his gasping comrades.
By this time Frank had hooked another, and for fifteen minutes the fun
was fast and furious. Once they were forced to pick up the paddles and
get ahead of the school again; but finally, with amazing suddenness, the
fish ceased biting.
“Where have they gone?” asked Bart. “I can’t see them jumping anywhere.”
“Nor I,” said Frank. “They have sunk. Let your line drop deeper before
starting to pull in.”
But, although they tried various methods of fishing, they caught but two
or three more, and those were not large ones.
“They are gone,” said Frank, regretfully; “but we have made a fine haul,
Hodge. Won’t Browning kick himself, to think he did not get up and come
with me when I awoke him this morning!”
“He won’t get over it all day, for he’d rather fish than do anything
else—unless it’s sleep. It’s wonderful how lazy that fellow is.”
“But he can fight. He’s got so he wants to fight my battles now. Why, he
was going to dip in over at Camp Benson last night when that fellow,
Welch, from Newport, took a fancy to punch me for dancing with his
girl.”
“He told me about it, and he said Welch was backed by a big, bewhiskered
ruffian who was all ready to hit you from behind. That was why he got
into the game. It was a plain case of a crooked attempt to do you up,
but Browning spoiled the trick.”
“I saw the man, and I was on guard for him. Welch swore he’d do me, and
he’s just the kind of fellow who will try to keep his word. He is a
ruffian, but is cowardly. I do not believe he would hesitate to kill a
man if he was in a rage and thought he might escape punishment for——”
The report of a gun reached their ears, and, at the same moment,
something came rattling against the side of the canoe.
Hodge uttered a cry of pain.
“I’m shot!” he exclaimed.
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