Nevertheless, they managed to take a few good-sized fellows. The fish proved so gamy that Mr. Holwell enjoyed their capture immensely.
“It seems to me the same thrill passes up my arm when I feel that fierce tug that I used to experience in those wonderful days of old,” he went on to say in a ruminating way, as memory once more awakened the scenes long since passed.
“Do you think the savage feels just so, when he brings down his game, or fastens to a big salmon or trout?” asked Dick.
“Well, that’s a question I can hardly answer,” said Mr. Holwell. “From my observation I imagine the only sensation he is apt to feel is gratification over having attained his end, which was to provide food to satisfy his appetite. Only civilized sportsmen have reached such a condition that they fish for the delight of matching their skill against the cunning of the gamy denizens of the lake. After winning the victory the sportsman will often gladly restore the fish to the water again unharmed.”
When lunch was ready at noon the berry pickers came trooping in, looking somewhat wearied, but all in good spirits. They had full buckets, every one, and this meant that the pile of berries would be considerably augmented.
“We intend to try it again to-morrow morning, if things look right, and Mr. Bartlett agrees,” asserted Peg, valiantly. “It was great fun, let me tell you! Why, we could have filled two buckets apiece if we’d had them along.”
“Say, did you happen to see anything of our friend, Bob?” demanded Dan.
“I suppose you mean the gorilla by that,” responded Fred Bonnicastle. “We’re glad to inform you that he was only conspicuous by his absence.”
“And his room was a whole lot better appreciated than his company,” added Eddie Grant. “For one I’m not hankering after running across any Old Man of the Woods just now. If he leaves me alone I’ll promise not to bother him while we’re here on Bass Island.”
“My sentiments every time,” said Phil.