Now it chanced that the old Indian, who was the most cunning trapper in
all the wilderness of Northern New Brunswick, though he seemed so intent
upon his fishing, was in reality watching the great eagle. He had
anticipated, and indeed prepared for the regal bird’s expedition to those
shoals of the Big Squatook; and now, as he marked the direction of his
flight, he clucked grimly to himself with satisfaction, and deftly landed
a large sucker in the canoe.
That very morning, before the first pallor of dawn had spread over
Squatook, the Indian had scattered some fish, trout and suckers, on the
shore adjoining the shoal water. The point he chose was where a dense
growth of huckleberry and withe-wood ran out to within a few feet of the
water’s edge, and where the sand of the beach was dotted thickly with
tufts of grass. The fish, partly hidden among these tufts of grass, were
all distributed over a circular area of a diameter not greater than six
or seven feet; and just at the centre of the baited circle the Indian had
placed a stone about a foot high, such as any reasonable eagle would like
to perch upon when making a hasty meal. He was crafty with all the
cunning of the woods, was this old trapper, and he knew that a wise and
experienced bird like the king of Sugar Loaf was not to be snared by any
ordinary methods. But to snare him he was resolved, though it should take
all the rest of the summer to accomplish it; for a rich American,
visiting Edmundston on the Madawaska in the spring, had promised him
fifty dollars for a fine specimen of the great white headed and white
tailed eagle of the New Brunswick lakes, if delivered at Edmundston alive
and unhurt.
When the eagle came to the point of shoals he noticed a slight change.
That big stone was something new, and therefore to be suspected. He flew
over it without stopping, and alighted on the top of a dead birch-tree
near by. A piercing scrutiny convinced him that the presence of the stone
at a point where he was accustomed to hop awkwardly on the level sand,
was in no way portentous, but rather a provision of destiny for his
convenience. He sailed down and alighted upon the stone.
When he saw a dead sucker lying under a grass tuft he considered again.
Had the fish lain at the water’s edge he would have understood; but up
among the grasses, that was a singular situation for a dead fish to get
itself into. He now peered suspiciously into the neighbouring bushes,
scanned every tuft of grass, and cast a sweeping survey up and down the
shores. Everything was as it should be. He hopped down, captured the
fish, and was about to fly away with it to his nestlings, when he caught
sight of another, and yet another. Further search revealed two more.
Plainly the wilderness, in one of those caprices which even his old
wisdom had not yet learned to comprehend, was caring very lavishly for
the king. He hastily tore and swallowed two of the fish, and then flew
away with the biggest of the lot to the nest behind the top of old Sugar
Loaf. That same day he came twice again to the point of shoals, till
there was not another fish left among the grass tufts. But on the
following day, when he came again, with hope rather than expectation in
his heart, he found that the supply had been miraculously renewed. His
labours thus were greatly lightened. He had more time to sit upon his
wind-swept watch-tower under the peak, viewing widely his domain, and
leaving the diligent fish-hawks to toil in peace. He fell at once into
the custom of perching on the stone at every visit, and then devouring at
least one fish before carrying a meal to the nest. His surprise and
curiosity as to the source of the supply had died out on the second day.
The wild creatures quickly learn to accept a simple obvious good, however
extraordinary, as one of those beneficences which the unseen powers
bestow without explanation.
By the time the eagle had come to this frame of mind, the old Indian was
ready for the next move in his crafty game. He made a strong hoop of
plaited withe-wood, about seven feet in diameter. To this he fastened an
ample bag of strong salmon-netting, which he had brought with him from
Edmundston for this purpose. To the hoop he fixed securely a stiff birch
sapling for a handle, so that the affair when completed was a monster
scoop-net, stout and durable in every part. On a moonlight night when he
knew that the eagle was safely out of sight, on his eyrie around at the
back of Sugar Loaf, the Indian stuck this gigantic scoop into the bow of
his canoe, and paddled over to the point of shoals. He had never heard of
any one trying to catch an eagle in a net; but, on the other hand, he had
never heard of any one wanting an eagle alive, and being willing to
emphasise his wants with fifty dollars. The case was plainly one that
called for new ideas, and the Indian, who had freed himself from the
conservatism of his race, was keenly interested in the plan which he had
devised.
The handle of the great scoop-net was about eight feet in length. Its
butt the trapper drove slantingly into the sand where the water was an
inch or two deep, bracing it securely with stones. He fixed it at an
angle so acute that the rim of the net lay almost flat at a height of
about four feet above the stone whereon the eagle was wont to perch.
Under the uppermost edge of the hoop the trapper fixed a firm prop,
making the structure steady and secure. The drooping slack of the net he
then caught up and held lightly in place on three or four willow twigs,
so that it all lay flat within the rim. This accomplished to his
satisfaction, he scattered fish upon the ground as usual, most of them
close about the stone and within the area overshadowed by the net, but
two or three well outside. Then he paddled noiselessly away across the
moon-silvered mirror of the lake, and disappeared into the blackness
about the outlet.
On the following morning, the king sat upon his watch-tower while the
first light gilded the leaning summit of Sugar Loaf. His gaze swept the
vast and shadowy basin of the landscape with its pointed tree-tops dimly
emerging above the vapour-drift, and its blank, pallid spaces whereunder
the lakes lay veiled in dream. His golden eye flamed fiercely under the
straight and fierce white brow; nevertheless, when he saw, far down, two
ducks winging their way across the lake, now for a second visible, now
vanishing in the mist, he suffered them to go unstricken. The clear light
gilded the white feathers of his head and tail, but sank and was absorbed
in the cloudy gloom of his wings. For fully half an hour he sat in regal
immobility. But when at last the waters of Big Squatook were revealed,
stripped and gleaming, he dropped from his perch in a tremendous,
leisurely curve, and flew over to the point of shoals.
As he drew near, he was puzzled and annoyed to see the queer structure
that had been erected during the night above his rock. It was
inexplicable. He at once checked his flight and began whirling in great
circles, higher and higher, over the spot, trying in vain to make out
what it was. He could see that the dead fish were there as usual. And at
length he satisfied himself that no hidden peril lurked in the near-by
huckleberry thicket. Then he descended to the nearest tree-top and spent
a good half-hour in moveless watching of the net. He little guessed that
a dusky figure, equally moveless and far more patient, was watching him
in turn from a thicket across the lake.
At the end of this long scrutiny, the eagle decided that a closer
investigation was desirable. He flew down and alighted on the level sand
well away from the net. There he found a fish which he devoured. Then he
found another; and this he carried away to the eyrie. He had not solved
the mystery of the strange structure overhanging the rock, but he had
proved that it was not actively inimical. It had not interfered with his
morning meal, or attempted to hinder him from carrying off his customary
spoils. When he returned an hour later to the point of shoals the net
looked less strange to him. He even perched on the sloping handle,
balancing himself with outspread wings till the swaying ceased. The thing
was manifestly harmless. He hopped down, looked with keen interested eyes
at the fish beside the rock, hopped in and clutched one out with beak and
claw, hopped back again in a great hurry, and flew away with the prize to
his watch-tower on Sugar Loaf. This caution he repeated at every visit
throughout that day. But when he came again on the morrow, he had grown
once more utterly confident. He went under the net without haste or
apprehension, and perched unconcernedly on the stone in the midst of his
banquet. And the stony face of the old Indian, in his thicket across the
lake, flashed for one instant with a furtive grin. He grunted, melted
back into the woods, and slipped away to resume his fishing at the
outlet.
The next morning, about an hour before dawn, a ghostly birch canoe
slipped up to the point of shoals, and came to land about a hundred yards
from the net. The Indian stepped out, lifted it from the water, and hid
it in the bushes. Then he proceeded to make some important changes in the
arrangement of the net.
To the topmost rim of the hoop he tied a strong cord, brought the free
end to the ground, led it under a willow root, and carried it some ten
paces back into the thicket. Next he removed the supporting prop. Going
back into the thicket, he pulled the cord. It ran freely under the willow
root, and the net swayed down till it covered the rock, to rebound to its
former position the moment he released the cord. Then he restored the
prop to its place; but this time, instead of planting its butt firmly in
the sand, he balanced it on a small flat stone, so that the least pull
would instantaneously dislodge it. To the base of the prop he fixed
another cord; and this also he ran under the willow root and carried back
into the thicket. To the free end of this second cord he tied a scrap of
red flannel, that there might be no mistake at a critical moment. The
butt of the handle he loosened, so that if the prop were removed the net
would almost fall of its own weight; and on the upper side of the butt,
to give steadiness and speed of action, he leaned two heavy stones.
Finally, he baited his trap with the usual dead fish, bunching them now
under the centre of the net. Then, satisfying himself that all was in
working order, he wormed his way into the heart of the thicket. A few
leafy branches, cunningly disposed around and above his hiding-place,
made his concealment perfect, while his keen black beads of eyes
commanded a clear view of the stone beneath the net. The ends of the two
cords were between his lean fingers. No waiting fox or hiding grouse
could have lain more immovable, could have held his muscles in more
patient perfect stillness, than did the wary old trapper through the
chill hour of growing dawn.
At last there came a sound that thrilled even such stoic nerves as his.
Mighty wings hissed in the air above his head. The next moment he saw the
eagle alight upon the level sand beside the net. This time there was no
hesitation. The great bird, for all his wisdom, had been lured into
accepting the structure as a part of the established order of things. He
hopped with undignified alacrity right under the net, clutched a large
whitefish, and perched himself on the stone to enjoy his meal.
[Illustration: “HELPLESSLY INTERTANGLED IN THE MESHES.”]
At that instant he felt, rather than saw, the shadow of a movement in the
thicket. Or rather, perhaps, some inward, unaccredited guardian signalled
to him of danger. His muscles gathered themselves for that instantaneous
spring wherewith he was wont to hurl himself into the air. But even that
electric speed of his was too slow for this demand. Ere he could spring,
the great net came down about him with a vicious swish; and in a moment
beating wings, tearing beak, and clutching talons were helplessly
intertangled in the meshes. Before he could rip himself free, a blanket
was thrown over him. He was ignominiously rolled into a bundle, picked
up, and carried off under the old Indian’s arm.