A PRIZE.
No great measure of success attended the efforts of the young
fishermen in the place first selected by their boatman, and after an
hour had passed and only two small pike had been secured, George rowed
out into the current and went still farther down the river.
Whether it was the brightness of the rays of the sun, or the intense
heat of the day that worked against them they could not determine, but
the fish were wary, and only a few were added to the numbers already
taken.
George, however, was determined to continue the sport, if the
occupation might still be called by that name, and frequently
expressed his determination to secure a muscallonge, and thereby gain
an advantage over his rival. The enthusiasm of his companions visibly
cooled, and by the middle of the afternoon all hopes of securing one
of the mammoth prizes was gone. They enjoyed the day none the less,
and the frequent swift descents in the current whenever George rowed
out into it, the variety of the scenery by which they passed, and the
goodly sized catch they had already secured, were all sufficient to
make them reasonably content.
"George," inquired Jock, when the boat passed another island on which
a farmhouse could be seen, "what do the people here do in winter?"
"About the same as other folks, I suppose."
"No; but they must be cut off from shore when the river freezes."
"That's just the time when they're not cut off. They can get over to
the mainland then just as easy's not."
"Is the ice strong enough to bear them?"
George smiled as he replied, "They most always drive there. The ice
will hold anything you can pile on it."
As the boys gazed at the rushing waters, the words of the boatman
seemed almost incredible. That those angry currents should ever freeze
to such an extent that horses and loads could pass over them was
almost among the impossible events, but before they could speak,
George went on to say,--
"Of course there are times when the folks are shut off from the shore.
When there are thaws or freshets, or when the ice is forming, they
have to stay on the islands. But that isn't for a very long time, and
it isn't so hard as you might think. Everybody around here loves this
river, and it's no hardship to have to stay near by. There was a man
from New York up here last summer, and I used to take him fishing
almost every day. He was a fine man, too, and when he got ready to go
back home he made me a good offer to go back with him, and said he'd
give me a good place. But bless you! I couldn't think of leaving the
St. Lawrence. If I didn't see the heaving waters first thing in the
morning I'd be as lonesome as a hen with one chicken. I've lived
hereabouts all the twenty-six years of my life, and I'm too old now to
learn new tricks."
"What's that place ahead, George?" inquired Bob, pointing to a town on
the Canadian side of the river some two or three miles in advance of
them.
"Cornwall. It's quite a sizable town, too."
"Don't you think we'd better go ashore?" said Jock. "We must have a
good ten-mile ride, and it'll be night before long."
"Not just yet," pleaded the boatman. "We haven't got that
muscallonge."
"And aren't likely to get it, I'm afraid," replied Jock. "Where are
the teams to meet us, George?"
"Right down here. We've time enough yet," persisted George, as he
turned the skiff into another bay. "Try it here, boys. We may get a
muscallonge before you know it, and then Hank McBride will have to
keep still."
The boys made no protest, though the sun was already low in the
western sky. In a few minutes their desire to return was forgotten,
for the fish were striking again, and several pike and pickerel were
safely landed.
"I think, George, we'd better go back now," said Jock, as the boatman
turned to resume his course up the bay. "It's getting late."
"Just one turn more," persisted George. "If you knew how Hank will
talk after we get back, you'd be willing to keep on a little longer."
"All right," agreed Jock, good-naturedly. "We'll take one more turn,
but then we'll have to go ashore. I don't want to be out here any
longer."
George made no reply, and began to row with increased deliberation.
Slowly the skiff was sent up the bay, but not a strike rewarded his
efforts. Still more slowly he took a wider sweep as he reversed the
course, never once speaking or taking his eyes from the long lines
which trailed far behind in the water. Neither of the boys was
expecting anything now, and when two-thirds of the remaining distance
had been covered, Jock began to reel his line in, satisfied that the
day's sport was ended.
"One more?" suggested George, pleadingly.
Jock shook his head and continued his occupation.
"You might as well take yours in, too," said George, sadly, to Bob. "I
wish you weren't in such a hurry. I believe we might get a muscallonge
yet."
"We haven't been in a hurry," said Bob. "You've given us a great day,
George; we'll never forget it, or you. Hold on a minute. Back water a
bit; my hook has caught in some of the grass, I guess."
George obeyed, but as he rested on his oars, suddenly Bob's line began
to run out with a rush that almost yanked the rod from his hands.
"Grass, is it?" exclaimed George, excitedly. "Hi! Look at that, will
you?" he exclaimed a moment later.
About a hundred and fifty feet behind them a monstrous fish leaped
from the water, and in a graceful curve plunged into the bay again,
but all could see that Bob's line was fast to him.
Then began such a contest as neither of the boys had ever witnessed
before. With furious rushes the great fish darted first in one
direction and then in another, and the reel on Bob's rod "sang" as the
line was drawn from it. Bob was standing erect now, and, grasping the
rod tightly in one hand, with the other attended to the reel. At times
the strong rod would be drawn beneath the water, and Bob was compelled
to exert all his strength merely to hold on, while the light boat was
drawn swiftly over the bay, and George was doing his best to assist
the eager boy with his oars.
"Look out! Look out!" the boatman called, quickly. "He's coming
straight for us! Reel in! Reel in! Don't give him an inch of slack or
you'll lose him! Hadn't you better let me take the rod?"
"No," replied Bob, decidedly. "I'll get or lose him myself."
The line was now loose in the water, and as Bob turned the reel in
desperate haste, there was a great fear in his heart that the fish had
torn himself away; but when at last he had secured all the slack,
there was another savage pull and the line went darting through the
water once more.
Five minutes, ten minutes passed, and still the exciting contest
continued. Bob would draw the powerful fish farther in toward the
boat, but every time the muscallonge would dart away again, and
sometimes every yard of the line would be drawn from the whirling reel
before he would pause in his flight.
"Tucker him out! Tucker him out! It's the only way to get him," said
George. "Don't you think you'd better let me take the pole now?"
But Bob was still determined, and the fierce contest was not relaxed.
Hither and thither, now up and now down the bay, the fish darted in
his efforts to free himself, but Bob was still master. Jock was an
interested spectator, but was unable, seated as he was in the stern,
to render any assistance to his friend, even if Bob had desired any.
When a quarter of an hour had passed, it became evident that the fish
was becoming tired. The lunges still continued, but not so much of the
line was paid out now, and every time Bob reeled in he drew his victim
nearer the boat.
At last there came a time when he could reel steadily, and, to his
intense delight, he could feel the heavy fish following the line.
Nearer and nearer came the muscallonge, and Jock, who was leaning over
the edge and peering down into the depths of the clear water, suddenly
exclaimed,--
"Oh, Bob! he's as big as the boat! You'll never get him in here in the
world!"
Perhaps the great fish heard his words, or caught sight of his captors
at that moment. At all events, he suddenly turned and dashed away
again with another burst of speed that made the reel sing merrily. He
did not go far, however, and as the line slackened, George said in a
loud whisper, "That's his last turn. Now look out, and if you don't
give him any slack, you can bring him where I can reach him with my
gaff. Careful, now; careful!"
Apparently Bob needed no advice, for slowly and steadily, although his
hands were trembling in his excitement, and his eyes almost seemed to
stand out from his head as he peered eagerly down into the water to
obtain his first glimpse of his prize, he drew the fish toward the
boat.
Either discouraged or worn out by his struggles, the muscallonge
followed the lead now, and with every turn of the reel offered no
resistance. Both Bob and Jock were hardly breathing in their
excitement, and they could feel, rather than see, that George had
taken his gaff and was leaning over the edge ready for the last great
effort.
Suddenly George thrust the cruel hook into the water, the boat dipped
dangerously, the boys were almost thrown from their seats, as with one
lusty pull the monstrous fish was lifted into the air and then fell
upon the bottom of the skiff.
For a moment even the excitement of the boys was forgotten in the
struggle which followed. With great strokes of his powerful tail the
fish struck the sides of the boat until it seemed as if they must be
broken into pieces. From side to side he threw himself, and to the
eager lads it appeared as if he was everywhere at once.
But George was ready for the emergency, for, watching his opportunity,
he threw himself upon the struggling muscallonge, and with a few hard
blows of his hickory club, put an end to the contest, and then
stretched their victim upon the bottom of the boat, as he was much too
large to be placed in the fish box. The contest was ended, and Bob had
been victorious.
And what a contest it had been! The great, savage head, the
beautifully mottled sides, the immense size of their prize, could be
seen now to advantage, and for a moment no one spoke. The feelings of
the boys were too keen, however, for them long to remain silent, and
in a moment they broke into a cheer which must have awakened the
echoes along the shore.
"Well, I guess you aren't very sorry you followed my advice now,"
said George, who was the first to speak.
"Well, I rather guess we're not!" responded Bob, eagerly.
"It's quitting time now, though," said George, glancing again at the
sun, which was just above the western horizon. "The teams will be up
there at that farmhouse you can see yonder. We'll get some milk to
drink there, too, and that'll help to stay your stomachs till you can
get back to the hotel."
The boat was speedily sent ashore, and the delighted boys leaped
quickly out upon the bank.
"You can take the muscallonge, and I'll bring the fish box," said
George.
Securing a stout limb of a tree he thrust it through the gills of the
monstrous fish, and then, with one end resting on the shoulder of each
boy, and the muscallonge dragging almost to the ground between them,
they started for the house, where George soon after arrived with the
fish box, which of itself was no mean load.
He dropped the box on the grass near which the boys had placed the
muscallonge, and said, "I'll get some steelyards in the house, boys,
and we'll see how much the fellow weighs."
In a moment he returned, but before he proceeded to weigh the fish, he
opened its huge jaws and began to thrust into them some of the smaller
pickerel and pike they had caught. Not satisfied with his efforts, he
was about to add some good-sized stones, when Jock, who had been
watching the actions of the boatman as if he did not understand what
he was doing, suddenly exclaimed,--
"Here, George, what are you doing?"
"Getting this fish ready to be weighed," replied George, without
pausing in his occupation.
"Well, then, weigh the muscallonge. We don't want to weigh all of St.
Lawrence county. The muscallonge will do."
George stopped abruptly, and gazed for a moment at the boys as if he
had not correctly heard them. Their determined manner was not to be
changed, however, and as he rose from the ground, he said,--
"Well, I must say you beat all the men I ever saw. Why, that's the way
everybody does down here when they weigh a fish."
"It isn't the way we do. We want to know exactly what this fish
weighs," said Bob.
Evidently chagrined and disgusted, George nevertheless weighed the
great fish, and glancing at the steelyards, said, "Humph! He only
weighs thirty-eight pounds!"
"Thirty-eight pounds!" exclaimed Jock, in his delight.
But even the present elation was forgotten when Hank McBride and the
other two boys were seen approaching with their catch, and in a moment
Jock turned to greet them with a shout of triumph.