Trout-Fishing.
A few days after the events related in the preceding chapter
transpired, Frank, with one or two companions, was standing in the
post-office, waiting for the opening of the mail. The steamer had just
landed, and the passengers which she had brought were slowly walking
toward the hotel, where they intended to take dinner. At length, a
village hack came rapidly down the road leading from the wharf, and,
when it came opposite the post-office, a head was suddenly thrust out
at the window, the driver reined in his horses, the door flew open,
and Archie Winters sprang out.
We shall not attempt to describe the meeting of the cousins, nor the
joy that prevailed among the village boys at the arrival of their city
friend.
Archie had not written that it was his intention to come so soon, and
his sudden appearance among them took them completely by surprise.
After a few moments' conversation, Frank and Archie got into the
carriage, and, in a short time, were set down at the door of Mrs.
Nelson's house.
Frank's mother and sister expressed much joy at Archie's arrival, and,
after the excitement of meeting was over, they inquired after his
parents.
"When are they coming?" asked Frank.
"They intended to come in the fall," answered Archie, "but father has
more business on his hands than he expected, and they may not be here
before the holidays; but I couldn't wait."
"I'm glad you didn't," said Frank. "You are not going home before
spring, are you?"
"No," said Archie, "I'm going to stay as long as you will keep me."
Frank was overjoyed at this, and, if he had not been in the house, he
would have given, as he said, "a yell that would have done credit to
an Indian."
But, before going further, we must say a word about Archie's
companions--we mean his dogs. One of them, that answered to the name
of Sport, was as fine a fox-hound as one would wish to see. He was a
large, tan-colored animal, very fleet and courageous, and was well
acquainted with all the tricks of his favorite game, and the boys
often boasted that "Sport had never lost a fox in his life." The black
fox, which had held possession of Reynard's Island so long, was
captured by Frank and his cousin, with the assistance of Sport, after
a chase of three hours. Lightfoot--for that was the name of the
other--was an English grayhound. He stood full three feet high at the
shoulders, and his speed was tremendous. He was young, however, and
knew nothing about hunting; but he had been taught to "fetch and
carry," and, as he learned very readily, the boys expected plenty of
sport in training him.
After supper, Archie's trunk was carried into the "study," and the
boys busied themselves in taking out its contents. The clothing was
all packed away in the bureau; and then came Archie's "sporting
cabinet," as he called it--a fine double-barreled shot-gun, which was
hung upon the frame at the foot of the bed; a quantity of ammunition,
a small hatchet, powder-flasks, shot bags, and a number of other
things, which were stowed away in safe places.
At length Archie drew out two fish-poles, neatly stowed away in strong
bags, and one of them proved to be the one about which Archie had
written. This was placed away in one corner, and Frank promised to
mend it immediately.
"See here," said Archie, as he drew out two queer-looking implements;
"I have been acting on the suggestion of Uncle Joe Lewis."
"What are they?" inquired Frank.
One of them was a thin rod of steel, about three feet in length, very
pointed and sharp at the end the other looked very much like a
fish-spear, only the "tines" were smaller and sharper.
"They are spears," said Archie, in answer to Frank's question.
"So I see; but what use can you put them to?"
"This," said Archie, taking up the rod of steel, "is a mink-spear.
Last winter we lost a good many minks, when, if we had had an
instrument like this, we could have secured them easily enough. You
know that sometimes you get a mink into a place where you can see him,
but, if you go to work to chop a hole large enough to get a stick in
to kill him, he will jump out before you know what you are about. You
will remember a little incident of this kind that happened last
winter--that day we had such good luck. We were following a mink up
the creek on the ice, when Brave suddenly stopped before a hollow
stub, and stuck his nose into a hole, and acted as if there was a mink
in there; and, you know, we didn't believe there was, but we thought
we could stop and see. So we cut a hole in the stub, and, sure enough,
there was a mink, and, as good luck would have it, we had cut the hole
close to the place where he was, and we thought we had him sure; and,
while Harry Butler went to cut a stick to kill him with, I chopped the
hole a little larger, so that we could see him plainer, when, all of a
sudden, out popped the mink, and, before we could say 'scat,' it was
under the ice."
"Yes," said Frank, "I remember it very well; and, I guess, there were
some mad boys around that place, somewhere."
"Yes," said Archie, "I was provoked because it was all my fault that
we lost him. If we had had this spear, we could have killed him easy
enough. We wouldn't be obliged to cut a hole larger than an inch
square, and no mink I ever saw could get through that. And this," he
continued, taking up the other instrument, "is a muskrat-spear. The
way to proceed is this: Go to a muskrat's house, and, with an ax, cut
a chunk out of the top, directly over where they sleep."
"And, by the time you get that done," said Frank, with a laugh, "the
muskrats will be out of your way."
"I know that; they will undoubtedly start off the first blow you
strike, and swim to some breathing-hole; but in a quarter of an hour
they will be sure to return. While they are gone, you will have plenty
of time to cut the chunk, and, after taking it out, place it carefully
back, in such a manner that it can be removed instantly; then, if
there are any other houses near, serve them in the same way. Then, in
half an hour or so, take your spear and go to the houses, making as
little noise at possible, and let your companion lift out the chunk
suddenly, and you be ready to strike. Father says he has seen Uncle
Joe Lewis catch half a dozen in one house, in this way, very
frequently. He always spears the one nearest the passage that leads
from the house down into the water, and this will prevent the others
from escaping."
"I don't much like the idea," said Frank.
"Neither do I," said Archie. "It will do well enough for those who
make their living by hunting; but, if I want to hunt muskrats, I would
rather wait until the ice breaks up, in spring; I can then shoot them
quite fast enough to suit me, and the sport is more exciting."
One morning, about a week after Archie's arrival, they arose, as
usual, very early, and, while they were dressing, Frank drew aside the
curtain, and looked out.
"I say, Archie," he exclaimed, "you've got your wish; it's a
first-rate morning to go trout-fishing."
Archie had been waiting impatiently for a cloudy day; he was very fond
of trout-fishing, and he readily agreed to his cousin's proposal to
"take a trip to Dungeon Brook," and they commenced pulling on their
"hunting and fishing rig," as they called it, which consisted of a
pair of stout pantaloons that would resist water and dirt to the last
extremity, heavy boots reaching above their knees, and a blue flannel
shirt.
While Archie was getting their fishing-tackle ready, Frank busied
himself in placing on the table in the kitchen such eatables as he
could lay his hands on, for he and his cousin were the only ones up.
Their breakfast was eaten in a hurry; and, after drawing on their
India-rubber coats--for Frank said it would rain before they
returned--they slung on their fish-baskets, and took their trout-poles
in their hands, and started out.
Dungeon Brook lay about five miles distant, through the woods. It was
a long tramp, over fallen logs and through thick bushes; but it was
famous for its large trout, and the boys knew they would be well
repaid for their trouble.
In about two hours they arrived at their destination; and, after
partaking of a lunch, which Frank had brought, they rigged their
"flies," and Archie went up the brook a little distance, to try a
place known among the boys as the "old trout-hole," while Frank
dropped his hook down close to a large log that lay across the stream,
near the place where he was standing. The bait sank slowly toward the
bottom, when, suddenly, there was a tremendous jerk, and the line
whizzed through the water with a force that bent the tough, elastic
pole like a "reed shaken with the wind." Frank was a skillful
fisherman, and, after a few moments' maneuvering, a trout weighing
between three and four pounds lay floundering on the bank.
Archie soon came up, having been a little more successful, as two
good-sized fish were struggling in his basket.
They walked slowly down the brook, stopping now and then to try some
favorite spot, and, about three o'clock in the afternoon, they reached
the place where the brook emptied into Glen's Creek, and were about
two miles from home. They had been remarkably successful; their
baskets were filled, and they had several "sockdologers" strung on a
branch, which they carried in their hands.
After dropping their hooks for a few moments among the perch, at the
mouth of the brook, they unjointed their poles, and started toward
home, well satisfied with their day's work.
The next day, as Frank and Archie were on their way to the village, on
foot--the wind being contrary, they could not sail--they met George
and Harry, who had started to pay them a visit.
"Hallo, boys!" exclaimed the former, as soon as they came within
speaking distance, "we've got news for you."
"And some that you will not like to hear, Frank," said Harry, with a
laugh.
"What is it?" inquired Archie.
"Why, you know, Charley Morgan, some time since, sent to New York for
a couple of sail-boats, a sloop and schooner. They arrived yesterday,
and he thinks they are something great, and says the Speedwell is
nowhere."
"Yes," chimed in Harry, "he said, when those boats came, he would show
us 'country chaps' some sailing that would make us open our eyes; but,
come to find out, they are perfect tubs. I saw the sloop coming up the
creek, and she made poor headway. The Alert can beat her all hollow,
with only the foresail hoisted."
During the conversation the boys had been walking toward the village,
and, in a few moments, they reached the dock behind the post-office,
where the two new boats lay. One of them was a short, "dumpy,"
sloop-rigged boat, with no deck or center-board, and the other was a
beautifully-modeled schooner.
"What do you think of them?" inquired Harry, after they had regarded
them several moments.
"Well," answered Archie, "I have seen a good many boats like these in
New York, but I don't think they will do much here. That schooner may
show some fine sailing qualities, but that sloop will prove to be the
slowest boat about the village; she is altogether too short. Take it
where the waves are long and regular, and she will do well enough but
here in the river, where the waves are all chopped up, she can't
accomplish much."
"That's your private opinion, expressed here in this public manner, is
it?" said a sneering voice. "You have made a fine show of your
ignorance."
The boys turned, and saw Charles Morgan and several of the Rangers
standing close by.
"If I didn't know more about yachts than that," continued Charles,
"I'd go home and soak my head."
This remark was greeted by the Rangers with a loud laugh; and Archie,
who, like Frank, was a very peaceable fellow, said,
"Every one to his own way of thinking, you know."
"Certainly," answered Charles; "but, if I was as much of a blockhead
as you are, I'd be careful to keep my thoughts to myself."
Archie did not answer, for he knew it would only add fuel to the fire;
for Charles's actions indicated that he was bent on getting up a
quarrel. He had determined to make another attempt to "settle
accounts" between himself and Frank.
"I'll bet you fifty dollars," said Charles, "that there are not half a
dozen boats about the village that can beat that sloop."
"I'm not in the habit of betting," answered Archie; "but, if you will
find a boat about the village that _can't_ beat her, I'll eat your
sloop."
"You are green, indeed," said Charles. "Now, what do you suppose that
sloop cost me?"
"Well," answered Archie, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets, "I
think ten dollars would foot the bill."
Archie said this in so comical a manner that Frank and the others
could not refrain from laughing outright.
Charles was angry in an instant, and, quick as thought, he sprang
forward and seized Archie. But he soon discovered that he had
undertaken more than he could accomplish; for his antagonist, though
considerably smaller than himself, was possessed of enormous strength,
and was as active as a cat, and he glided like an eel from Charles's
grasp, and, seizing him by both wrists, held him fast. After a few
desperate, but ineffectual, attempts to free himself, Charles shouted
to the Rangers, who had been bustling about in a state of considerable
excitement, but very prudently keeping in the background,
"Help, help, you cowards!"
But nothing could induce them to attempt the rescue.
At this moment a boat, which had entered the creek unnoticed by the
boys, drew up to the dock, and a strong, cheery voice, called out,
"Hang on to him, little fellow--hang on to him. We've got a few little
matters to settle up."
And Leo Powell came running toward them, with half a dozen of his
ragged followers close at his heels.
"Oh, let me go," cried Charles, turning very pale, and writhing and
twisting in the strong grasp that held him; "I'll be civil to you
after this, only don't let them get hold of me; they will half kill
me."
Archie accordingly released his captive, but the Hillers were so close
to him that Charles dare not run, and he remained close to Frank for
protection, while the rest of the Rangers beat a precipitate retreat.
"Here, Pete, hold my coat," said Lee, tossing his tattered garment to
one of his companions; "I'll show this Cap'n Regulator that some folks
are as good as others."
And he advanced toward Charles, and commenced rolling up his sleeves.
"No, Lee," said Frank, placing himself before the frightened Ranger,
"you mustn't touch him."
"Mustn't touch him!" repeated Lee, in surprise. "Why, wasn't he jest
tryin' to wallop your friend here?"
"Oh, he's able to defend himself," answered Frank.
"Then he's all right. But I haven't paid for trying to Regulate me,
that night."
"He didn't do it, did he?" inquired Frank.
"No, 'cause you fellows wouldn't let him."
"Then, we don't want you to whip him now."
"Wal, if you say so, I won't; but he oughter be larnt better
manners--hadn't he, Pete?"
"'Course," was Pete's laconic answer.
"Now, Charley," said Archie, "you may take yourself off as soon as you
wish; they will not hurt you."
"Not this time," said Lee, shaking his hard fist in Charles's face;
"but we may come acrost you some time when you hasn't nobody to stand
up for you; then you had better look out--hadn't he, Pete?"
"Hadn't he, though!" was the answer.
Charles did not need any urging, and he was quickly out of sight.
"I'd like to see you jest a minit, Frank," said Lee, as the former was
about to move away.
Frank drew off on one side, and the Hiller continued,
"I promised I'd allers be a friend to you fellers that stood up for me
that night, and I want to let you see that I haven't forgot my
promise. I know that I can't do much for you, but I jest want to show
you that I allers remember favors."
Here he turned, and made a motion to one of his companions, who darted
off to the boat, and soon returned, bringing a young otter in his
arms.
"I allers heerd," continued Lee, as his companion came up, "that you
have a reg'lar hankerin' arter ketchin' and tamin' wild varmints. Now,
we want you to take this as a present from us. I know it ain't much,
but, arter all, a young otter is a thing a feller can't ketch every
day. Will you take it?"
"Certainly," answered Frank, as he took the little animal in his arms.
"I have long wished for an otter, and I thank--"
"Hold on there," interrupted Lee. "Keep your thanks for them as needs
them, or likes to hear 'em. We Hillers have got feelings as well as
any body. It's our way of bringin' up that makes us so bad. Now,
good-by; and, if you ever want any thing, jest call on Lee Powell."
And he and his companions walked rapidly toward their boat, and soon
disappeared.