ON FISHING BENT
"IF you think you can get on without me, Dick, I'd like to slip away
for a little time," Roger was saying, after the boats had been run
ashore, the horses tethered among the trees, and preparations for
supper, with an attendant air of bustle, were well underway.
Of course Dick knew what was in the wind. He had not forgotten the
remark made by his comrade that, if the chances were favorable, he
meant to spend half an hour or so that evening collecting worms and
grubs to be used as bait when they tried their luck at fishing on the
next day.
"To be sure I can," he told Roger, with a smile. "All you have to do is
to trot along with your hatchet, and something to put the grubs in--if
you find any."
"Oh! I'm not afraid of being left in the lurch there," asserted Roger,
stoutly. "I can see plenty of signs of dead wood around here. A fierce
storm must have swept across this section many years ago, that leveled
plenty of big trees, which are now rotting on the ground. Grubs like
to hide in that sort of decayed stuff. Look for me by the time it gets
dusk."
"Keep your gun near you, and it would be better not to stray too
far away from the camp," warned cautious Dick, speaking on general
principles.
"You don't believe there's any danger lurking near by, do you?" asked
Roger, though failing to show much concern, for his nature was daring
and fearless.
"Nothing more than we always count on," the other told him. "But white
men who are in a strange country must always figure on finding an enemy
hiding back of some tree or rock, so keep your eyes about you, Roger.
If I should hear your gun sound, or catch a hullo, depend on me to come
in a hurry."
Roger only laughed, for he did not believe any peril could lurk so
close to the camp. Still, accustomed to being on his guard, he made
it a point to see that the powder was in the pan as he tucked his gun
under his arm and strode forth.
He found to his relief that there were plenty of old stumps and
rotting logs close to where the fires had been started, so that he need
not go any great distance away in order to begin his search.
His hatchet was soon brought into play, as he smashed some of the
likely looking remnants of once proud forest monarchs. It required
little muscular effort, scattering the soft punk-like wood, and, hardly
had the boy obtained a fair start, than with a satisfied little cry he
reached down and seized an enormous white grub whose home in the heart
of the decayed stump he had broken open.
Just as Roger had anticipated, a rich harvest awaited him. Sometimes he
came upon half a dozen prizes in one stump, and it was not long before
he knew that, before the darkness became too dense for him to see how
to work, he would have secured all the bait they could possibly use on
the following morning.
At any rate, they would always have their hatchets with them,
and, should their supply run low, there would be plenty of other
opportunities to replenish their store.
So it was that he returned to camp much sooner than Dick in his most
sanguine moments had imagined possible. There was hardly any need to
ask Roger how his quest had turned out, for the broad smile on his
tanned face told the story.
"A noble lot of fish lure," assented Dick, when he had examined the
contents of the small box into which Roger had also cast a handful of
powdered dead wood, in which his prisoners could conceal themselves. "I
must say you struck it rich this time."
"And, unless the weather goes against us when morning comes," continued
Roger, as he fastened up the box so that nothing could get at the bait
during the night, "we ought to do some tall fishing, it strikes me. I'd
just like to give the whole camp a splendid treat to those beauties of
speckled rainbow fish which we believe to be a species of trout."
All evening long the subject was frequently in his mind, for Roger was
one of those persistent persons who, once they have planned anything,
can think of little else.
"I tell you what I mean to do after we've had our breakfast," he said
at one time during the evening.
"All right," remarked Dick, who knew how useless it was to try to keep
Roger's mind off his fishing, "suppose you do then, and I'll jot it
down in my notebook, for I'm making up my day's log, you see. Go on and
tell me."
"If you look over there, Dick, you can see that friendly Indian who has
insisted on sticking to us for two days now, walking along the shore,
squatting close to our fires, and watching everything we do as though
he was head over heels in love with the ways of the palefaces."
"Yes, I've often wondered what he could be thinking about," admitted
Dick. "I've seen Captain Lewis trying to talk with him by signs, and
often calling one of the men up to help out. From that I judged the
Indian might be giving him some valuable information, which was why
they allow him to tag after us so long, and even see that he gets his
share of food at meal times."
"Well," continued Roger, "my idea is to go over to him now, and see if
he can understand that we'd like to have him tell us about a good place
for fishing in the morning; for, after all, what's the use of waiting
until breakfast time; he might be gone in the night. What do you say to
it, Dick?"
"Not a bad scheme," his chum assented. "And, do you know, I think the
brave has taken some little interest in both of us, because a number of
times it seemed to me he was watching us closely. There's your chance
now, for that matter, Roger; and, if you find it too hard to make him
understand, get Jasper Williams, our good friend, to act as interpreter
for you."
Upon that the impulsive Roger scrambled to his feet and presently he
could be seen sitting close to the friendly Indian brave, engaging him
in a strange conversation in which hands and smiles took the place of
words.
Apparently, Roger finally found the task greater than he could manage,
for he called to genial Jasper Williams, who joined them. Then the
business of explaining to the dusky son of the wilderness was taken up
anew; and with fair success, if the look on Roger's boyish face meant
anything.
When he once more rejoined his chum he was fairly bubbling over with
enthusiasm, so that Dick was not at all surprised to hear him exclaim:
"The finest of luck ever, Dick! Would you believe it? that brave tells
us there is a small stream emptying into the Missouri a couple of miles
above the camp, and that it is reckoned the best place for those big
fat trout around this section of the country."
"That is good news, indeed," remarked Dick, also pleased. "So we can
look forward to supplying the camp with a mess of fish, if all goes
well."
"Not only did he tell us that," continued the eager lad, "but he agreed
to go along with us, and show where the best holes lie; for in hot
weather, you know, all trout leave the shallows and gather in the deep,
dark pools. If we didn't know just where those places were we might
waste a lot of time trying."
At the time Dick thought they were very fortunate to be able to command
the services of the friendly Indian, and he mentioned this belief to
Roger.
"He seems to have taken a great fancy to the whites, and, no matter if
he does eat like a hungry dog, we must not complain. He will hardly
wish to go much further from his own people, and we may expect to wake
up some fine morning to find that the brave has slipped off during the
night."
"So long as he does not steal one of our horses or guns nobody will
complain, I guess," chuckled Roger. "These Indians are a light-fingered
set, take them all in all, and Jasper Williams says he never would
trust one out of his sight."
Having made all their fishing arrangements the boys soon afterwards
sought their shelter made from branches, and wrapped in their blankets
tried to find sleep.
The camp was governed with military strictness, and there were sentries
on duty all through the night, for Captain Clark had this part of the
arrangements in charge. Not once up to this time had they been taken
by surprise, though on several occasions roving bands of Blackfeet or
Dacotahs had tried to steal their horses, only to meet with failure.
Securely guarded in this manner, they passed the night in peace, and so
another dawn found them. As usual the travelers were early astir, for
there were no laggards among them. Every man had his duties to perform,
and strict discipline kept them to their various tasks.
Roger of course was about the first one up, though he knew that Dick
could not be coaxed to make a start until he had performed every one
of his duties as was his custom. If the fish were as plentiful as the
friendly Indian had declared, they would have abundance of time to take
heavy toll of their number long before noon came around.
"We decided to take one of the smaller boats if it could be spared,
you remember, Dick," Roger was saying as they ate breakfast.
"Yes," the other replied, "and I've already mentioned that to Captain
Clark, who gave me full permission to do so. This is certainly one of
the times we would enjoy having that buffalo-hide Indian boat we shot
the rapids in. I was beginning to think we ought to change our minds
about giving it away, when that accident happened, and ruined it for
hard work."
"Accident!" echoed Roger. "We knew different after we found where that
sharp knife-blade had been run along the bottom almost through the
tough hide. But that sly dog of an Andrew Waller paid dearly for his
work. I wonder what became of him; whether he joined the French trader
and his son, or went over to the Indians."
"We may never know," his chum admitted. "For my part, I hope and trust
that neither of us will ever set eyes on Waller again. I did not like
the look he gave us when he went out of camp that day; and, like all
guilty wretches caught in the act of doing wrong, he blames us for his
troubles."
In good time Dick announced that he was ready to make the start. Roger
saw to it that they had the bait. Stout poles had also been secured, to
the end of which the fishing lines were fastened. Such things as reels
those pioneer lads never knew. When a prize was hooked it was their
business to land the captive in the speediest way possible; and, as a
rule, this consisted in swinging the struggling trout over their heads
on to the land.
The Indian was hovering nearby. Dick fancied that he looked very eager,
as though he quite enjoyed the idea of accompanying the pair on their
fishing trip, and making himself useful. Perhaps, the boy thought, the
poor fellow wished to attach himself to the expedition, on account of
the charm it had for his untutored mind; for Indians could feel the
desire for adventure such as urged these bold white men to penetrate
farther day by day into the unknown country.
The boys picked out the boat best adapted to their needs, and which
could be most easily spared. Beckoning to the Indian, the boys prepared
to push out on the river. Two paddles were to be the means of urging
the light craft against the strong current of the river, and an hour's
time would be ample to see them to their destination, Roger thought,
as he commenced to wield the spruce blade vigorously.
Jasper Williams called out a last word of caution as they passed away,
up the stream, for he felt a strong interest in these boys with whose
fortunes he had been so intimately connected.
"Keep your eyes about you, lads," was what he told them, "and don't
trust everything you see, just because it looks innocent. There's a
difference between red and white, remember. Good luck to you both!"
Others also called out, begging the boys to remember that they too
liked a mess of fresh fish; and, with these friendly voices ringing in
their ears, Dick and Roger paddled swiftly up the river, soon losing
sight of the explorer's camp.