Camping on the St. Lawrence; Or, On the Trail of the Early Discoverers

by Quincy Allen

  CHAPTER XXIII.

  A PRIZE.

  No great measure of success attended the efforts of the youngfishermen in the place first selected by their boatman, and after anhour had passed and only two small pike had been secured, George rowedout into the current and went still farther down the river.

  Whether it was the brightness of the rays of the sun, or the intenseheat of the day that worked against them they could not determine, butthe fish were wary, and only a few were added to the numbers alreadytaken.

  George, however, was determined to continue the sport, if theoccupation might still be called by that name, and frequentlyexpressed his determination to secure a muscallonge, and thereby gainan advantage over his rival. The enthusiasm of his companions visiblycooled, and by the middle of the afternoon all hopes of securing oneof the mammoth prizes was gone. They enjoyed the day none the less,and the frequent swift descents in the current whenever George rowedout into it, the variety of the scenery by which they passed, and thegoodly sized catch they had already secured, were all sufficient tomake them reasonably content.

  "George," inquired Jock, when the boat passed another island on whicha 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 tothe 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 icewill hold anything you can pile on it."

  As the boys gazed at the rushing waters, the words of the boatmanseemed almost incredible. That those angry currents should ever freezeto such an extent that horses and loads could pass over them wasalmost 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, theyhave to stay on the islands. But that isn't for a very long time, andit isn't so hard as you might think. Everybody around here loves thisriver, and it's no hardship to have to stay near by. There was a manfrom New York up here last summer, and I used to take him fishingalmost every day. He was a fine man, too, and when he got ready to goback home he made me a good offer to go back with him, and said he'dgive me a good place. But bless you! I couldn't think of leaving theSt. Lawrence. If I didn't see the heaving waters first thing in themorning I'd be as lonesome as a hen with one chicken. I've livedhereabouts all the twenty-six years of my life, and I'm too old now tolearn new tricks."

  "What's that place ahead, George?" inquired Bob, pointing to a town onthe Canadian side of the river some two or three miles in advance ofthem.

  "Cornwall. It's quite a sizable town, too."

  "Don't you think we'd better go ashore?" said Jock. "We must have agood ten-mile ride, and it'll be night before long."

  "Not just yet," pleaded the boatman. "We haven't got thatmuscallonge."

  "And aren't likely to get it, I'm afraid," replied Jock. "Where arethe teams to meet us, George?"

  "Right down here. We've time enough yet," persisted George, as heturned the skiff into another bay. "Try it here, boys. We may get amuscallonge before you know it, and then Hank McBride will have tokeep still."

  The boys made no protest, though the sun was already low in thewestern sky. In a few minutes their desire to return was forgotten,for the fish were striking again, and several pike and pickerel weresafely landed.

  "I think, George, we'd better go back now," said Jock, as the boatmanturned to resume his course up the bay. "It's getting late."

  "Just one turn more," persisted George. "If you knew how Hank willtalk 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 anylonger."

  George made no reply, and began to row with increased deliberation.Slowly the skiff was sent up the bay, but not a strike rewarded hisefforts. Still more slowly he took a wider sweep as he reversed thecourse, never once speaking or taking his eyes from the long lineswhich trailed far behind in the water. Neither of the boys wasexpecting anything now, and when two-thirds of the remaining distancehad been covered, Jock began to reel his line in, satisfied that theday'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. "Iwish you weren't in such a hurry. I believe we might get a muscallongeyet."

  "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 abit; my hook has caught in some of the grass, I guess."

  George obeyed, but as he rested on his oars, suddenly Bob's line beganto run out with a rush that almost yanked the rod from his hands.

  "Grass, is it?" exclaimed George, excitedly. "Hi! Look at that, willyou?" he exclaimed a moment later.

  About a hundred and fifty feet behind them a monstrous fish leapedfrom 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 witnessedbefore. With furious rushes the great fish darted first in onedirection and then in another, and the reel on Bob's rod "sang" as theline was drawn from it. Bob was standing erect now, and, grasping therod tightly in one hand, with the other attended to the reel. At timesthe strong rod would be drawn beneath the water, and Bob was compelledto exert all his strength merely to hold on, while the light boat wasdrawn swiftly over the bay, and George was doing his best to assistthe eager boy with his oars.

  "Look out! Look out!" the boatman called, quickly. "He's comingstraight for us! Reel in! Reel in! Don't give him an inch of slack oryou'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 indesperate haste, there was a great fear in his heart that the fish hadtorn himself away; but when at last he had secured all the slack,there was another savage pull and the line went darting through thewater once more.

  Five minutes, ten minutes passed, and still the exciting contestcontinued. Bob would draw the powerful fish farther in toward theboat, but every time the muscallonge would dart away again, andsometimes every yard of the line would be drawn from the whirling reelbefore he would pause in his flight.

  "Tucker him out! Tucker him out! It's the only way to get him," saidGeorge. "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 inhis efforts to free himself, but Bob was still master. Jock was aninterested 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 fishwas becoming tired. The lunges still continued, but not so much of theline was paid out now, and every time Bob reeled in he drew his victimnearer the boat.

  At last there came a time when he could reel steadily, and, to hisintense delight, he could feel the heavy fish following the line.Nearer and nearer came the muscallonge, and Jock, who was leaning overthe edge and peering down into the depths of the clear water, suddenlyexclaimed,--

  "Oh, Bob! he's as big as the boat! You'll never get him in here in theworld!"

  Perhaps the great fish heard his words, or caught sight of his captorsat that moment. At all events, he suddenly turned and dashed awayagain with another burst of speed that made the reel sing merrily. Hedid not go far, however, and as the line slackened, George said in aloud whisper, "That's his last turn. Now look out, and if you d
on'tgive him any slack, you can bring him where I can reach him with mygaff. Careful, now; careful!"

  Apparently Bob needed no advice, for slowly and steadily, although hishands were trembling in his excitement, and his eyes almost seemed tostand out from his head as he peered eagerly down into the water toobtain his first glimpse of his prize, he drew the fish toward theboat.

  Either discouraged or worn out by his struggles, the muscallongefollowed the lead now, and with every turn of the reel offered noresistance. Both Bob and Jock were hardly breathing in theirexcitement, and they could feel, rather than see, that George hadtaken his gaff and was leaning over the edge ready for the last greateffort.

  Suddenly George thrust the cruel hook into the water, the boat dippeddangerously, the boys were almost thrown from their seats, as with onelusty pull the monstrous fish was lifted into the air and then fellupon the bottom of the skiff.

  For a moment even the excitement of the boys was forgotten in thestruggle which followed. With great strokes of his powerful tail thefish struck the sides of the boat until it seemed as if they must bebroken into pieces. From side to side he threw himself, and to theeager 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 hardblows of his hickory club, put an end to the contest, and thenstretched their victim upon the bottom of the boat, as he was much toolarge to be placed in the fish box. The contest was ended, and Bob hadbeen victorious.

  And what a contest it had been! The great, savage head, thebeautifully mottled sides, the immense size of their prize, could beseen now to advantage, and for a moment no one spoke. The feelings ofthe boys were too keen, however, for them long to remain silent, andin a moment they broke into a cheer which must have awakened theechoes 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 thesun, which was just above the western horizon. "The teams will be upthere at that farmhouse you can see yonder. We'll get some milk todrink there, too, and that'll help to stay your stomachs till you canget back to the hotel."

  The boat was speedily sent ashore, and the delighted boys leapedquickly out upon the bank.

  "You can take the muscallonge, and I'll bring the fish box," saidGeorge.

  Securing a stout limb of a tree he thrust it through the gills of themonstrous fish, and then, with one end resting on the shoulder of eachboy, and the muscallonge dragging almost to the ground between them,they started for the house, where George soon after arrived with thefish box, which of itself was no mean load.

  He dropped the box on the grass near which the boys had placed themuscallonge, 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, heopened its huge jaws and began to thrust into them some of the smallerpickerel and pike they had caught. Not satisfied with his efforts, hewas about to add some good-sized stones, when Jock, who had beenwatching the actions of the boatman as if he did not understand whathe was doing, suddenly exclaimed,--

  "Here, George, what are you doing?"

  "Getting this fish ready to be weighed," replied George, withoutpausing 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 hehad not correctly heard them. Their determined manner was not to bechanged, 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 wayeverybody does down here when they weigh a fish."

  "It isn't the way we do. We want to know exactly what this fishweighs," said Bob.

  Evidently chagrined and disgusted, George nevertheless weighed thegreat fish, and glancing at the steelyards, said, "Humph! He onlyweighs thirty-eight pounds!"

  "Thirty-eight pounds!" exclaimed Jock, in his delight.

  But even the present elation was forgotten when Hank McBride and theother two boys were seen approaching with their catch, and in a momentJock turned to greet them with a shout of triumph.