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.