REX LEARNS HOW TO MAKE A CARRY.
Shortly before noon they reached the little settlement at North East
Carry.
"Well, well I'm glad to see you boys. How are all your sorrows and
joys?"
The storekeeper greeted them as they entered the little general store.
"Fine and dandy. How are you and all the folks?" Bob replied shaking him
heartily by the hand.
"If I felt any better I'd be ashamed, but the Misses she's a trifle
lamed."
"That's too bad. Hope it's nothing serious," Bob said.
"Doctor said she'd be all right, but she's got a foot that's sure a
sight."
"How about some dinner?" Jack asked.
"Dinner'll be ready in half an hour. Plenty ter eat if the milk hain't
sour."
"Well I sure hope it isn't," Jack laughed.
While they were waiting for dinner they arranged for the loan of canoe
telling the storekeeper that they were going up the Allagash. By the
time dinner was ready they had their supplies all ready for the carry to
the West Branch about five miles north through thick woods.
"Jack, if you and Rex will take the stuff Kernertok and I'll tote the
canoe," Bob suggested as they were ready for the start.
"All right. But I hope Rex won't get discouraged on the first lap," Jack
laughed.
"We've seen the kind of stuff he's made of before," Bob replied. "But
we'll take it a bit easy at first."
Carrying forty pounds or perhaps a trifle more does not sound very hard
but unless one is used to it the load gets pretty heavy by the time a
couple of miles have been passed and the weight seems to increase, as
Jack put it, by the cube of the distance.
Rex was tired before they had covered half the distance but, as Bob had
inferred, he was game and would not ask them to stop on his account. But
he was very glad when, after they had covered three miles, the Indian
lowered his end of the canoe to the ground saying,
"We rest um. White boy heap tired."
Rex did not deny the accusation as he threw himself on the ground.
"How many hundred pounds of stuff have we got here?" he asked.
"I'll bet it feels like at least three," Jack laughed. "But after you
get your second wind it won't seem so hard."
They rested for about fifteen minutes at the end of which time Rex
declared that he was all right.
As they proceeded the going rapidly grew more difficult as the forest
became more and more dense and the underbrush was very thick. This
really made it easier for Rex as Bob and Kernertok had hard work to
manage the canoe and their progress was painfully slow.
"Hope we don't have many carries like this," Bob panted as he lowered
his end to the ground for another rest.
"Heap more some heap bad," the Indian declared shaking his head.
"That's very consoling," Jack grinned.
But the hardest part of that carry had been passed and as they went on
the traveling rapidly became easier as the trees thinned out and the
underbrush cleared.
"Here she be," Jack, who was a few yards ahead of the others, shouted as
he caught sight of water through the trees.
It was half past four when they reached the stream.
"Three hours and a half covering five miles," Rex said as he swung his
pack to the ground.
"That's nothing," Bob assured him. "Sometimes it takes several hours to
carry a single mile. We really made very good time. How about it,
Kernertok?"
"Heap good time for white boys," the old Indian said.
"Carrying a load through the heavy woods is a different matter from
carrying that same load through the streets," Jack declared.
"Don't I know it?" Rex laughed.
The West Branch of the Penobscot River at this point is a rapid stream
of water which tumbles over hidden rocks and sweeps around bends making
it dangerous canoing for any but experienced men. About fifty feet wide
here it often narrows to twenty-five and a little further on opens up to
as much as a hundred feet.
"Had we better launch the canoe and make a few miles or camp here for
the night?" Bob asked Kernertok.
"White boy heap hurry, we go on," the Indian said nodding toward Rex.
"Guess we might as well," Bob agreed. "It's several hours before dark."
So they hastily loaded the supplies into the canoe and carefully pushed
it into the water.
"You and Rex get in the middle, Jack, and Kernertok and I'll handle the
paddles."
The supplies together with the four men and the dog made a good load for
the canoe and it seemed to Rex that the water came dangerously near to
the rail. But he said nothing having perfect faith in the knowledge and
skill of his friends.
"All set?" Bob cried as he pushed and leaped into the bow.
Almost immediately the swift current caught the frail craft and whirled
it around until it was headed down stream.
Once out in the middle of the river the canoe needed no urging from the
paddles and all Bob and the Indian had to do was to keep her straight
and away from the rocks. And it was not long before Rex decided in his
own mind that that was quite enough.
Now a big rock would loom up directly in their path and it would seem
certain that they were going to hit it when Bob, by a slight movement of
his paddle, would deflect their course just in time. And again Rex would
shudder in spite of himself as he glanced over the side of the canoe and
saw the jagged points of ledges seemingly only a few inches beneath the
surface. Even he knew that it would need but a brush against those teeth
to rip a large hole in the bottom of the canoe.
"And I sure would hate to have to try to swim ashore here," he thought
more than once.
He could tell by the rapidity with which the banks seemed to fly past
that they must be making fully twenty-five miles an hour.
"If we should hit a good sized rock out here, that is big enough to stop
the canoe all at once, our momentum might carry us all through the air
to the shore and we wouldn't have to swim," he thought as they swept
around a bend what seemed to him terrific speed.
The course of the stream had been to the east but the bend was nearly at
right angles and now they were heading almost due north.
"I thought streams always ran toward the south," he shouted turning his
head.
"Not up here they don't," Jack laughed. "They're apt to run any old
way."
In spite of his determination not to be afraid and his confidence in the
Indian and Bob the first leg of the trip down the river was a trying one
to Rex and his mind was greatly relieved when he heard Kernertok shout
something to Bob and the next moment the canoe headed in toward the
shore.
"Nice smooth run," Bob said to Jack as the latter stepped out of the
canoe a few minutes later.
"Sure was," Jack returned.
"Eh, what?" Rex asked turning to Bob with an incredulous expression on
his face.
"I said we'd had a nice smooth run," Bob repeated.
"Oh, yes. Wasn't it smooth? And I suppose a little farther on we get to
shooting over falls several hundred feet high you'll remark casually
that there must have been a ripple on the water behind us."
Both boys let out a roar of laughter and even Kernertok's stoical face
lighted up a trifle while Sicum cocked his head to one side as if trying
to ask what it was all about.
"You get used to it after a while and it don't seem so rough," Jack
assured him, still laughing.
"That's what the Irishman said after he'd had his second leg cut off,"
Rex laughed. "But if you say it was a quiet trip I'll believe it only I
hope we won't strike any rough ones."
They had landed in a little cove where was a sandy beach and for some
distance out from the shore the water was comparatively quiet.
"Jack, do your stuff," Bob said as he started gathering wood for the
fire.
"What does he mean?" Rex asked.
"Trout."
"Got an extra rod?"
"Sure."
"All right. Lead me to it."
They went a few rods down stream to where a point of land jutted out.
"Now you want to be careful," Jack told Rex. "They get some pretty big
ones in this stream. If you get a strike let him run with it after
you've hooked him. The only way to land an eight pounder is to tire him
out."
"An eight pounder! Say what are we fishing for, whales?"
"No, trout. But if you get hooked on to a big fellow you'll think it's a
whale."
"You go ahead and let me see how you do it," Rex said and Jack threw a
brown hackle far out on to the tossing water.
Splash! Zip! And the line began to run out making the reel whine and
sing.
"You got him," Rex shouted dancing about in his excitement.
"Sure I got him," Jack replied as he began slowly to reel in his line.
"Is he a big one?"
"Only fair. Mebby three pounds."
"If that's only a three pounder what would an eight pound fish do?" he
gasped as the line again began to run out.
Jack landed the trout without much difficulty a few minutes later and,
as he had guessed, it lacked an ounce of weighing three pounds.
"Now you try it," he said. "Throw out as far as you can and just let the
fly float on the water."
Rex did as Jack said and the next minute was nearly thrown off his
balance as a monster trout seized the fly.
"Got him," he gasped as he regained his balance.
"And a big one," Jack shouted. "Let him run. You can't pull him in yet."
Rex let the line run out until the reel was three quarters empty.
"Now put on the brake but not too hard."
"He's going to take it all," Rex cried as the brake failed to stop the
fish.
"If he does the only thing to do is to cling on and hope the line will
hold."
The reel stopped clicking as the final layer of line ran out and Rex
braced his feet for the tug.
"He's a big one all right," Jack shouted as the fish broke water far out
near the middle of the stream.
"If only this line doesn't break," Rex gasped.
"It's a brand new silk line and ought to hold if he isn't over eight
pounds," Jack assured him.
"Now quick. Reel in," he shouted as he saw the line slacken.
And Rex reeled in the line as fast as he could turn the handle. He had
recovered nearly half of the line when the trout again broke water and
again headed for the opposite shore.
"Let him have it again but keep the drag on," Jack shouted.
This time, by pressing as hard as he dared on the drag, Rex managed to
stop the fish with several layers of line still on the reel. As the fish
turned he rapidly reeled in for the second time and had recovered fully
three quarters of the line before having to let him run again. Five
times the reeling in and running out were repeated. But each time the
rush of the trout was weaker than the one before and it was evident to
them both that the fish was rapidly losing strength.
"Don't give him a bit of slack," Jack cautioned as Rex reeled in for
what proved to be the last time. "I've had 'em break away after I
thought they were all in."
Slowly, still fighting as foot by foot Rex recovered the line, the big
fish came in until Jack, reaching over the bank, scooped him into the
landing net and carefully drew him in.
"He's sure a beauty," he declared as he held the fish up by the gills.
"How much will he weigh?"
"Not much under eight pounds if any."
"I didn't know they grew that big."
"You don't often get one as big as this fellow for a fact, but I've seen
one which tipped the scales at ten pounds," Jack told him. "But eight
was the biggest I ever caught."
"Well, I guess we've got enough for supper," Rex laughed as they started
back.
"And some left over for breakfast."
"Um heap big fish," Kernertok grunted as he caught sight of the trout
which Rex was proudly carrying.
"He's a peach all right," Bob joined in. "Who caught him?"
"I did," Rex puffed out his chest.
"All by his lonesome," Jack added.
"He sure was some fighter," Rex declared as he looked at the fish. "But
let's see how much he weighs."
The boys always took with them on their trips a small pocket scale and
in another moment Jack announced that the fish only lacked a fraction of
an ounce of eight pounds.
"And he's just as good as he is big," Rex said a little later as he
reached for a third helping.
And they all agreed with him, even Sicum who was receiving his full
share.
It was nearly dark by the time they had the dishes washed and boughs cut
for their beds.
"Do you think that fellow has the money up there with him," Bob asked as
they sat around the fire.
The night air was cool and the heat of the fire was very grateful to
them all.
"That's pretty hard to say. He drew the cash from the bank the day
before he disappeared to make a settlement with one of our big customers
who is a very peculiar man and always demands cash. It was in thousand
dollar bills and so wouldn't make such a very big bundle and he could
easily take it with him. Yes, I rather think he's got it with him
wherever he is unless he's hid it somewhere. But if we find him you can
bet your last dollar I'll make him give it up." And the boys, by the
light of the fire, saw a look on Rex's face which was foreign to his
usually pleasant countenance.
"We'll find him if he's up this way anywhere," Jack assured him.
Shortly after nine o'clock they were all asleep on their beds of spruce
boughs wrapped in their blankets. Once Rex awoke, his sleep disturbed by
the cry of some wild animal but he was unable to tell what it was.
"Probably a wild cat," he thought as he turned over and quickly drifted
off again.
The next morning Jack insisted on taking his turn in the bow and
somewhat reluctantly Bob gave in to him.
"You want to be mighty careful," he cautioned him as they pushed off.
"There's some ugly rocks out there."
"I'll be on the watch for them," Jack promised.
They had made only a short distance when, above the noise of the rushing
water, they heard the sound of a loud roaring.
"That heap big falls," Kernertok announced as he turned the canoe toward
the shore. "Have to make little carry," he added as the bow scraped the
sand.
"And do you mean to tell me that you'd make a carry for a little thing
like that," Rex asked a little later as he stood on a huge rock and
gazed at the rushing water as it leaped high in the air and fell to the
whirling pool some twenty feet below. "Just for a little ripple like
that?"
"We'll all wait here while you try it," Bob laughed.
"Not to-day, thank you. I'll wait till I get a little more used to some
of your dips," Rex laughed. "But I say, that's one of the prettiest
sights I ever saw. Look at the spray. Niagara Falls is larger of course
but when it comes to beauty, believe me, it's got nothing on this."
Late that afternoon Kernertok announced that it was only about a mile
farther to the head of Chesuncook Lake.
"We stay there to-night," he said.
He had hardly spoken when the canoe for the first time struck a rock.
There was a ripping sound and the next moment the water was pouring in
through a rent nearly a foot long.
Almost before he had time to think Rex found himself floundering in the
water. Fortunately it was not very deep, not more than four or five
feet, but the rapid current made it almost impossible to keep one's
footing. As he shook the water from his eyes, struggling to maintain his
balance, he saw Bob and the Indian a few yards below clinging on to
either end of the canoe. Jack was nowhere in sight.
"Make for the shore," he heard Bob shout.
Seeing that they would probably have the canoe in to shore before he
could reach them and doubting his ability to be of any assistance even
should he arrive in time he bent all his energy to getting himself
ashore. A half a dozen times he went completely under as his feet
slipped on the rocks but finally sputtering and blowing he drew himself
out of the water.
"What's the first thing a fellow does when he falls in the water?"
Rex looked behind him and saw Jack slowly wading ashore just below him.
"I guess he tries to get out," Rex panted.
"You're wrong. The first thing he does is to get wet."
"Then I did the first thing to perfection."
"And believe me you weren't the only one who did it either."
"I believe you would joke if you were going to be hanged," Rex tried to
force a smile but, as Jack told him afterward, the effort was a dismal
failure.
Meanwhile Bob and Kernertok had succeeded in getting the canoe to the
shore a little way below and when the two reached them they were busy
lifting out the bundles of provisions.
"Lucky we got all our stuff that water will hurt in tight cans," Bob
said.
"Um, heap get wet," Kernertok declared.
"I'll say so," Rex agreed.
As quickly as possible the blankets were wrung out and spread out to
dry.
"Too bad it didn't happen sooner so the blankets would have time to get
dry before night," Bob said. "But, as it happens, you can't choose the
time for such things."
"Another thing we're in luck about and that is that our canoe is birch
bark instead of canvas," Jack remarked.
"How come?" Rex asked.
"Because Kernertok'll have this fixed in two shakes of a dog's tail, but
if it was canvas it would be a different matter."
"You mean he can mend that big hole up here in the woods?"
"Just watch him," Bob laughed. "He's after birch bark now."
"I'll keep an eye on him," Rex promised. "But if he can mend that hole
he's good, that's all."
"He's good all right as you'll see before long."
The Indian was back in a little less than a half hour with several long
strips of birch bark and a little dipper made of the same material which
Rex saw was filled with some kind of pitch.
"Rex, here, thinks you can't mend that hole," Jack told him.
"Heap big hole but Injun fix um."
Rex watched the Indian fascinated as he smeared the edges of the cut
both inside and out with the thick pitch. Then he put on a layer of
birch bark and smeared the entire patch with more of the pitch. Then
came a second layer of the bark followed by more pitch. This was
repeated until not less than six layers of the bark had been applied.
Then, after smearing the edges of the patch thickly with what remained
of the pitch, he grunted:
"Um all fixed."
"How long will it take it to dry so we can use it?" Rex asked anxiously.
"Be all right in morning," the Indian assured him.
Fortunately it was a hot day and none of them suffered from their wet
clothes which they had not removed. But they knew that the night would
be cool and so, as soon as the canoe was finished, they built a big fire
close against a ledge of rock which was back some twenty feet from the
edge of the stream. There was an abundance of drift wood all about so
they did not lack for fuel. They kept the fire going full blast until
they were ready for bed and the rock reflected the heat to such an
extent that they felt no need of the blankets.
Jack and Rex again caught trout for supper but did not hook what Jack
called a big one, the largest weighing but three pounds.
As the blankets and other things were not thoroughly dried out in the
morning they were obliged to delay their departure until after nine
o'clock.
"It's too bad, but it can't be helped."
"A few hours more or less isn't going to make any difference," Rex
assured him.
Soon after they started they reached the head of Chesuncook Lake.
"We cross this," Bob explained, "and then there's a small stream that
runs out of Longley Pond which we can go up if the water's high enough.
Then we'll have a seven or eight-mile carry across to Chamberlain Lake."
And now, for the first time, they had to make use of the paddles other
than steering. But Bob in the bow and Kernertok in the stern sent the
light canoe, heavily laden as it was, at a rapid pace through the water
and in a little over half an hour they were at the mouth of the stream
which was not much more than a brook.
"Think there's enough water?" Bob called back as he headed the canoe up
the stream.
"No heap much. Mebby she go mebby not. We try it."
"Always try anything once." Bob laughed.
The stream was not swift but very crooked and more than once Rex fancied
that he could feel the bottom of the canoe scraping. Their pace was very
slow but, as Jack said, it was a whole lot better than walking and
carrying all the stuff.
The distance from Chamberlain Lake to Longley Pond is not over five
miles as the bird flies but Bob was positive in his assertion that they
must have gone twenty before they came out on the tiny pond. At any rate
it was almost noon and they decided to eat their dinner before starting
on the long carry.
"This a hard carry?" Bob asked Kernertok as they were taking the things
out of the boat.
"Heap big hill. Heap hard."
"Sounds encouraging," Jack laughed.
"Mebby it isn't so bad as it sounds," Rex said hopefully.
"If Kernertok says it's bad you can depend on it that it is worse," Bob
assured them.
Long before three o'clock Rex decided that Bob was not far wrong. It
seemed to him that they must have traveled not less than fifteen miles
when Kernertok, as they stopped for one of their frequent rests,
announced that they were nearly half way across. Pushing through
underbrush so thick that it required about all the strength he could
muster, climbing over and around rocks nearly the size of a small house
and climbing over or crawling under fallen trees had proven a form of
exercise wholly new to him.
"I thought we were just going to the next lake and not up to the North
Pole," he panted as he threw himself on the ground and wiped the sweat
from his face. "How in the world you ever manage to get that canoe
through these woods is a mystery to me."
"Heap badder places nor this," Kernertok said solemnly.
"Hope I never see one of them," Rex laughed.
The second half of the portage proved even worse than the first, though
Rex insisted that such a thing was impossible, and even Kernertok was
panting when, a little after six o'clock, they suddenly emerged from the
thick woods and found themselves on the shore of Chamberlain Lake.
"Talk about the strenuous life," Rex declared leaning against a big
rock. "This has got anything I ever tried beat seven different ways."
"It was a bit rough for a fact," Bob agreed.
"Rough! You call that rough? I'd call it absolutely precipitous."
"You mean all up and down?" Jack laughed.
"Right. But mostly up." Rex assured him.
"Well, let's get supper. I believe I can eat a bite," Bob suggested.
"You said something," Rex said. "I don't believe there's fish enough in
this lake to satisfy me let alone the rest of you."
"Careful," Bob laughed. "This is a pretty big lake, nearly twenty miles
long, and I've heard that there are some mighty large fish in it."
"Well, come along Jack and we'll get a sample or two." And the two
quickly jointed their poles and started for a point a short distance
away.
"I reckon we aren't out far enough for the big ones," Jack declared a
little later. "But I guess we've got enough for supper."
"I suppose these would make good bait for the big fellows farther out,"
Rex laughed as he picked up a string of twelve or fourteen trout
averaging about a half a pound.
Sometime during the night Bob awoke suddenly. He sat up on his bed of
boughs and listened. He was quite certain that some sound had disturbed
him as he seldom wakened in the night except for good cause.