A Captured Fisherman
NOW that there was hope of learning more about Billy Blue-eyes, the
young campers found it hard to wait patiently for possible tidings from
Pittsburg. They were all restless and excited; Laddie in particular
could settle down to nothing.
"We'll all go fishing," declared Mr. Black. "That'll keep Billy's mind
off his troubles. Dave says he knows a trail that will lead us to the
finest fishing spot in the country; so we'll take a lunch and stay all
day."
"Laddie," queried Mrs. Crane, anxiously, "are you strong enough for
such a long trip?"
"Sure," asserted her fidgety patient, "I could pull in a _whale_."
"Then," declared Mrs. Crane, "I'll get Mahjigeezigoqua to wash the
dishes and make the beds, and I'll go, too. I don't care if I do get
rheumatism--I haven't been fishing for _years_. And that young woman
loves to do things for us."
"No wonder," said Jean, "after all you did for Rosa Marie last winter."
"Put on your very oldest shoes," ordered Mr. Black. "You're to wade the
river--Dave says it's shallow all the way down, except in a few spots
where we can follow a trail along the bank. He's cutting poles for
everybody."
For perhaps half an hour, sure-footed Dave, carrying the lunch in a bag
on his back, led the fishing party through thickets that Mr. Black had
supposed impenetrable, to come out at last on the river bank. It was
their own many-curved river, but so wildly beautiful at this seldom
visited spot that even quiet Mrs. Crane exclaimed loudly. Then, their
hooks baited, they waded into the shallow, winding stream, and fished.
"Go _down_ dose stream," commanded Dave. "Bam-bye she's take you back
to Pete's Patch."
"Here, Bettie," said Mr. Black, "I'll show you how to cast your
hook--Phew! Here's a fish for you already--must have been ready for
breakfast!"
Sure enough, a wriggling, silvery trout dangled from Mr. Black's pole.
"There's something running away with my line," complained inexperienced
Jean, a little frightened by this uncanny sensation. "It feels as big
as a rabbit!"
"Pull it in," commanded Mr. Black, "you've got a bite."
So she had, but the fish that had felt "as big as a rabbit" proved
so tiny that Mr. Black put him back to grow; and the apparently
unconcerned little trout made a dart for Marjory's hook. He seemed so
determined to be caught by _somebody_--it didn't matter who--that Dave
dug a little pool in the sand for him.
"Stay dere," ordered Dave, "till dose beeg brodder of you ees have som'
chance for got caught."
"I don't think I want to fish," said tender-hearted Jean. "I'd rather
_look_. Every time I take a step I see a new picture--I'd like to keep
all my eyes for the scenery."
"So would I," declared Bettie, pulling in her line. "Let's just dawdle
along together somewhere out of reach of Mabel's hook--Goodness! Look
at Henrietta putting on her own bait!"
"I did it, too," bragged Marjory. "I couldn't wait for Dave--it's
_such_ fun to see a trout dart out from under the bank and grab your
worm and run away with it."
"You must give a little jerk," instructed Mr. Black. "Just like that."
"Just like this," added Mabel. But Mabel's fish proved to be a log, so
amid much laughter, Dave provided her with a fresh hook.
For several wonderful hours, the happy castaways waded and fished.
Never in all their wanderings had they encountered anything as
beautiful as the overhanging trees, the fern-fringed banks, the softly
gurgling water. And never had fish seemed more willing to bite. Even
Dave was surprised at their voracity. In spite of Mrs. Crane's heavy
floundering, in spite of the number of times that Mabel slipped from
slimy stones to land "kersplash" on her sturdy back, in spite of the
delighted shrieks that came from Marjory and Henrietta at every bite,
the hungry fish flocked to the feast of angleworms.
[Illustration: SEATED ON THE DRY END WAS A STOUT, PLACID MAN]
"Dose worms she's taste lak' pie to dose feesh," explained Dave.
"I'd like it better," grumbled Mabel, whose hook was continually
catching in the trees, "if there wasn't so much underbrush overhead."
"That's certainly a queer place," laughed Billy, stringing his eleventh
trout on the branch provided by Dave, "for _under_brush. Here, I'll
pull it out for you."
The wonderfully happy morning passed all too quickly--there should be
some way of prolonging summer mornings in a trout stream. They had
eaten their wholesome lunch, and Mr. Black, his fine dark eyes aglow
with eagerness, his thick, almost-white hair standing up all over his
head, had fished in a dozen perfectly marvelous holes that Dave had
pointed out, when the castaways reached in their wanderings a point
crossed by a broken-down bridge. One end was still in place; the
other sagged until it was partly submerged. Seated on the dry end
of this flimsy structure, fish-pole in hand, was a stout, placid man,
whose mild, serene blue eyes invited confidence.
Sociable Mr. Black, still aglow with the joy of his unusual luck and
glad of a chance to display his splendid catch, proudly disclosed the
contents of his basket--also of the basket that Dave carried.
Billy, too, and the girls flocked nearer to display _their_ respective
catches. It was certainly a fine showing. Mr. Black, however, had the
lion's share.
"How many did you say?" drawled the comfortable stranger, seemingly
only mildly interested in the count. His apparent indifference, indeed,
proved quite galling to Mr. Black, who had introduced himself and his
party.
"Seventy-two for mine," beamed Mr. Black. "For once we'll have all the
trout we can eat."
"Well, Mr. Black," returned the man, in his leisurely, indifferent way,
"I'm sorry for you; but I guess you'll have to ride to Lakeville in my
buckboard to-night. I'm the game warden; and fifty fish is the limit."
"The game warden!" gasped Mabel.
"The game warden!" gasped Henrietta.
"The game warden!" gasped all the others.
"The penalty," drawled the leisurely officer, "is either imprisonment
or a fine--seein' it's you, you'll probably have to pay a fine."
"I _will_!" exclaimed Mr. Black. "What's that about a limit? I didn't
know----"
"New law," explained the man, lazily. "And some of these here
trout that your kids have caught are undersized; they ain't seven
inches--'nother new law; you'll have to pay for those, too."
"Why, the limit is _six_ inches."
"Used to be, ain't any more," returned the placid person, fumbling in
his pocket for a battered copy of the game laws. "See, here's what it
says."
"I guess you're right," admitted Mr. Black, scanning the pages.
"I'm real sorry," stated the game warden for the second time. "But you
see, Mr. Black, I've got to arrest _somebody_ this week or they'll
think I'm not earning my salary. And I guess you can stand it lots
better'n some."
"Well," said Mr. Black, "I certainly supposed I was a law-abiding
citizen; but I'm willing to pay the piper--it isn't often that I dance
to such a merry tune. Those fish are worth any fine that I shall have
to pay. I'll go down with you to-night if you'll tell me where to meet
you; but I'm going to eat my share of those fish first--I assure you of
that!"
Mabel, who had edged closer to the game warden, now relieved her mind.
"Say," she queried, "you won't put him in jail, will you?"
"Not if he's able to pay his fine," smiled the stout officer.
"Where," she next demanded, severely, "are your leggings?"
"Leggings!" exclaimed the puzzled man. "Why! They don't make any big
enough to go round my fatted calves."
"I don't believe you _are_ the game warden," declared Mabel. "You're
just pretending."
The complacent officer, however, proved his right to the title by
showing certain documents to Mr. Black. But, as Mabel leaned closer to
inspect them, too, her weight upon the rotten log on which the bulky
game warden sat proved too much for the time-worn timber. Down it
crashed, taking Mabel and the astonished officer with it.
Fortunately, the water at this point was sufficiently deep to break
their fall, for the river bottom near the bridge was of solid
sandstone, and therefore pretty hard. Dave plunged in after Mabel, but
permitted the gasping game warden to flounder out by himself. By way of
atonement, Mr. Black invited the victim to supper and later loaned him
some dry clothing. After this accident, the campers, somewhat subdued
but fully alive to the wonderful charm of the day, proceeded toward
home. It was five o'clock when the castaways, hungry but otherwise
none the worse for their long day in the river, finally reached Pete's
Patch; for the point in the pretty stream that was only three-quarters
of a mile away by land was almost a day's journey by water, owing to
the numerous twists and turns of the winding river that was so like
Dave's queer conscience.
"Say, M'sieu Black," said Dave, lingering after the others had turned
toward camp, and speaking in a dreadful whisper very close to Mr.
Black's ear. "Ah'm good frien' to you. Eet ees ver' bad, Ah'm tole
(here Dave's black eye glittered humorously), to broke dose game law;
but eef you ees weesh for hide you'self, me, Ah'm show you som' pooty
good plass. Dose game ward' hunt for feefty year biffore she ees fin'
dose ol' Pete Black. Hey, Pete? You lak for hide on yourself?"
"Thank you, Dave," returned Mr. Black, "but I guess I'd better take my
medicine like a man--a man doesn't hide."
His first plan failing, Dave kindly offered to set the game warden
hopelessly astray, to steal his horse, and finally, as a last resort,
to murder the unsuspecting officer in a variety of ingenious ways. But
Mr. Black declined all these kindly offers and finally convinced Dave
that he didn't mind going to Lakeville, with a good fish supper inside
of him.
The castaways found Mr. Saunders in possession of the camp at Pete's
Patch. He had whittled a shingle doll for Rosa Marie, who sat in rapt
devotion at his feet.
"She hasn't taken her eyes off me since I arrived, three hours ago,"
declared Saunders, rising to hand some papers to Mr. Black. "She's
immensely taken with either my auburn hair or my new tan shoes--I don't
know which. I didn't know, Mr. Black, what you wanted done about this
insurance matter, so I brought the letters to you."
"Mighty glad to see you," returned Mr. Black, "for I'm going to town
to-night. You'll have to stay here till I get back and be a father to
my family. I'm under arrest for breaking the game laws--but wait till
you see what I broke 'em with. Those fish----"
"Any news from Pittsburg?" interrupted Mrs. Crane.
"Not a word. But I've brought letters for all those girls. Their
mothers, aunts, and so forth want to know how they're going to get
them ready to go away to school next fall if you keep them in the woods
all summer. They want to make clothes for them."
"It isn't polite," giggled lively Henrietta, "to answer letters the
moment you get them. And anyhow, who wants clothes?"
"There's just one thing that we do want," said Mrs. Crane, "and that's
news for our Billy-boy. He's so uneasy that he can't rest. In fact,
we're _all_ uneasy--in a state of suspense----"
"Well," returned Mr. Black, "worrying won't hurry matters, so you'd
better amuse yourselves with other things--perhaps Saunders will help."
Saunders _did_ help; nevertheless, it was hard to wait; for by this
time Laddie-Billy was quite certain that he was a friendless waif, a
homeless orphan, or, at best, a hopelessly lost youngster with only
half a mind.
"I'd rather be dead," mourned Billy, bitterly, "than a blithering
idiot."