[CHAPTER XI]
RAILROADING WITH THE KID
If there is anything that I have told you about Harbor Jim that sounds feeble or sickly sentimental, I have told you an untruth. Turn back to where I said it, and cross it out. It doesn't belong in this story. It's rank injustice to Jim.
I have fished with a good many of the Landers. I have been fishing off the banks when the weather has kept every man of us praying, who knew how to pray, and I have had a chance to judge of these bronzed fellows, big of hand and foot and the same of heart, most of them, as they met the wind and weather, the fortunes of life on the sea and the shore; and I want you to know I never have known and loved a manlier man than Jim.
Maybe that was why I was surprised one morning as we were returning to camp from a trip up the Humber River after salmon, to see the tears rolling down his cheeks and to note that he hastily took his sleeve and wiped his face and swallowed hard.
In this land of uncrossed lakes and unfished rivers, there is probably not a fairer one than the Humber River and there are reminders of Norway both on the lower and upper Humber.
It was with some difficulty that I had persuaded Harbor Jim to leave his home for the trip inland to the Humber for salmon fishing. The Lander does not take readily to a vacation, indeed, the average Lander cannot afford to take one. After several days of argument, Jim gave in, with this sentiment:
"I think the Lord must a been a good fisherman, else He wouldn't a picked fishermen to follow Him. He wanted to swap stories with 'em now and again. The Master knew by the ruffle and the shadow on the lake when the fish was schooling and he told Peter where to let down his nets. I have an idea He went away sometimes to fish as well as to pray and that fishin' with Peter and John, they come to know each other better."