FISHERMAN'S LUCK
"Why, it's only our old Moses after all!" cried Steve, as though the
astounding truth had burst upon him like a thunderbolt from a clear sky.
"And he's trying to founder himself with the whole supply of oats, the
rascal!" Toby added, indignantly.
But Moses was not afraid of foundering, apparently. He just gave another
contented whinny of delight, whisked that impudent stump of a tail of
his, and plunged deeper into the oat sack, which he had succeeded in
getting open.
Jack was perhaps the least surprised of the trio, and even he had not
more than begun to suspect the true state of affairs when the light was
turned on. He doubled up with laughter, for it was really comical to see
how eagerly Moses was delving into his oat supply, as though he feared
he was now about to be divorced from his feast, and retired in disgrace,
wherefore he wished to gobble all he could while the golden opportunity
lasted.
After they had all had several convulsions of merriment Steve concluded
it was time they took things in hand. Such dreadful liberties could not
be allowed, or the offense condoned.
"We've got to make him break away from those oats, that's all there is
about it," he went on to say, seriously. "A poor old nag of a horse
never knows when he's had enough."
"Horses don't happen to be alone in that class, Steve," chirped Toby.
"Never you mind about that," snorted the other; "and it doesn't become
you to give me a dig, Toby, because for a fellow of your size you can go
me one better when it comes to eating. But, Jack, we ought to put a stop
to this midnight feast, hadn't we? Oats cost money, and even horses have
their price in the market."
"Sure thing, Steve," chuckled the one addressed, as stepping forward he
endeavored to lead Moses away from the tail end of the wagon.
The old horse strenuously objected, and upon finding Jack determined he
took one farewell grab at the fine contents of the sack, so that he
could have something to munch on for a while afterwards. He gave
repeated backward looks toward the wagon, and seemed very unhappy when
all his dreams of a glorious feast had been knocked on the head after
this rude fashion.
"Now, you hold him a minute or two, Steve," remarked Jack, "while I go
and get into some clothes. This night air is salubrious all right, but
apt to set a fellow's teeth to chattering."
"That's right, it is so," Toby acknowledged; but despite his shivering
he would not retreat to his warm blanket until the show had ended.
Jack hurried as best he could, having pity on his chums. When he came
back partly dressed he sent them to their beds.
"I'll tie up old Moses so he won't be apt to get loose again in a
hurry," Jack advised them, and adding a bit reproachfully, "for you must
have been in a hurry after watering him in the evening, Steve. After
this I'll make it a point to see he's all right before I turn in."
So the horse was led away, and his rope once more fastened, this time in
such a secure fashion that there was no possibility of its getting
untied. He could move around within a certain radius, and nip the sweet
grass, as well as dream of how close he had been to the greatest banquet
of his natural life.
Before he went into the tent Jack reset the tin-pan trap. It had already
paid for what little trouble it caused him, because only for the alarm
having been given none of them might have heard Moses at his
surreptitious work; and consequently he would have devoured the entire
two weeks' supply of oats, or killed himself in the endeavor to dispose
of them, which would have been a calamity in several ways, both for
Moses and the camping party.
Again did the little hand-torch come in for a meed of praise on the part
of the one who had to carry out all these things in the middle of a dark
night. Both the others seemed to be pretty far gone along the road to
dreamland when Jack crept under his blankets. Toby did drowsily grunt,
and ask if everything was all right, but apparently hardly knew what he
was saying; so Jack only answered with a word, and cuddled under his
coverings, for he felt a trifle chilled.
There was no further alarm that night. The expected prowler did not show
up, much to the satisfaction of all concerned; and morning found them in
good shape. Moses was already whinnying as to remind them that horses
got hungry. Apparently the old reprobate never knew what a close call he
had had; left to his own resources, morning might not have been so calm
for him, if he lived to see the sun rise at all. And as Toby wisely
said, horse doctors must be as "scarce as hens' teeth" up in the Pontico
Hills district.
Somehow the adventure of the night seemed to appear even more comical
when viewed in the broad light of day. Toby in particular laughed every
time he thought of old Moses standing there, monarch of all he surveyed,
and trying to gulp the oats down like mad, as though he feared it was
too good a thing to last.
"Do you know," Toby observed, as they sat at breakfast that morning,
"Moses actually seemed to have tears in his eyes when Jack here forced
him to leave the end of the wagon. Why, that was the one grand
opportunity of his life to stuff--a regular Thanksgiving jamboree spread
out before him. He kept turning his head and looking back as if he had
lost his best friend. If he'd been going to the execution block I don't
think he could have shown more regret. Poor old chap, it was almost
cruel to cheat him out of his feast."
Then they turned their thoughts to other subjects, because, as Jack
wisely said, while this escapade on the part of Moses may have been a
great event in his life, it was only an episode with them.
"How shall we spend today?" Jack asked.
"Well, since you want to know my opinion," spoke up Toby, briskly, "I've
got my mouth made up for another mess of those fine and frisky Paradise
River bass; and I'd like a whole lot to have one of you fellows go over
with me."
"How about you, Steve?" queried Jack, turning to the partner of his
previous day's long trip.
"Reckon I'd be wise to lay off a spell, because, to tell you the truth
that heel did give me a mite of bother, especially on the return trip.
You go with Toby, Jack, and take your camera along. He says there are
some dandy things you might want to snap off between here and the river.
And in case either of you hook a four-pound bass you can get a picture
of the fight that will be worth seeing, as well as of the beauty after
he's landed. I mean to get over there later and try my luck, don't
forget, Toby, so leave a few in the river, please."
So it was settled. Jack somehow did not seem disposed to take that long
tramp on two successive days, though doubtless he had certain plans
arranged in his mind which could be carried out later on. With nearly
two weeks still ahead of them it was needless to hurry matters. "Rome
wasn't built in a day," he often told the more impatient Toby, when the
other was showing signs of fretting because things failed to move quite
as rapidly as he wished.
"Just leave the things for me to look after," said Steve, as they arose
after finishing breakfast. "I've thought up a few jobs I'd like to
tackle while you're away. And I'll also agree to see that old Moses
doesn't cut up any more of his capers. Have a bully good time, boys.
When do you expect to get back, Jack?"
"By noon, so far as I know now," he was told. "We ought to have all the
fish we can use by then, if they bite at all; and the fishing is never
worth much from eleven to three. I'll be able to snatch off any pictures
I'd care to take in addition; so look for us by twelve, Steve."
"I'll have lunch ready then, remember that, Toby," called out the
campkeeper, as the pair started to the tent to get their fishing
outfits and the camera.
Toby having been over the route took it upon himself to act as guide to
the expedition. Indeed, a tyro could have found the way, for in going
and coming they had left quite a plain trail, easily followed.
Of course Jack was interested in everything he saw. Toby frequently
called his attention to certain features of the landscape which
apparently had appealed to his love of the beautiful on the former
occasion. This showed that Toby kept his eyes about him pretty much all
the time; it also proved him to have an appreciation of Nature's
handiwork, rather unusual in a boy.
They did not take much more than half an hour to cross over to the bank
of the Paradise River. Toby himself remembered skating this far up the
stream several winters back, but everything looked so entirely different
in the summer-time that he could hardly be positive about this.
It was a pretty scene, and with not a living human being in sight quite
appealed to Jack. Birds flitted from tree to tree; small woods animals
were to be seen frequently, and Toby even showed Jack where a deer had
been down to drink, leaving there a plain series of delicate hoof
tracks.
"Now let's try the place that treated me best of all," he went on to
say, with all the consequential airs of a first discoverer.
"I want several pictures of this spot," Jack remarked, "but they will do
better along about ten o'clock, when the sun gets stronger, and the
contrasts are more striking. Besides, the fishing must come first, and
its always in its prime early in the morning. So get busy, Toby, and
let's see who lands the first bass."
Jack himself was something of a fisherman, as Toby well understood.
Indeed, he knew more about the habits of the tricky bass than any of the
boys in Chester; for as a rule they had been content simply to angle
with a worm, and take "pot-luck," while Jack had read up on the subject,
and even done more or less fancy fly fishing amidst other scenes.
Nevertheless Toby got the first fish. Perhaps this was because he knew
just how deep the water was, where a favorite swirl had yielded him
several finny prizes on the occasion of his former visit; or possibly
just through "dumb luck," as he called it. There is no accounting for
the freaks of fishing; a greenhorn is just as apt as not to haul in the
biggest bass ever taken in a lake, where an accomplished angler has
taken a thousand smaller fish from year to year, yet never landed such a
prize. "Fisherman's luck" has thus long become a famous saying.
However, Toby was not too exultant over his success. He fancied that
before they were done with the morning's sport Jack would be giving him
a pretty lively chase for the honors.
They certainly did have plenty of fun, though perhaps the finny
inhabitants of Paradise River may not have enjoyed the game quite as
well, since it was too one-sided. Inside of an hour they had taken seven
very good fish, really as many as they could well use; though Toby kept
saying that it was hard to gauge that appetite of Steve's, and one or
two more wouldn't come in amiss. It is so easy for even a conscientious
fisherman to find excuses for continuing the sport as long as the fish
will bite, such is the fascination connected with the game.
Then the expected happened. Jack had a tremendous bite, and was speedily
playing a fish that made his fine rod bend like a whip. Toby, forgetting
his own line, began dancing up and down on the bank, and urging Jack to
play him carefully.