At first they cut a small hole in the ice. Then, by the aid of a few poles and some blankets, Tatanka built a small dark tent over the hole.
“Now, then,” he said, “we go in and fish. May be we catch them, may be not. If the fish don’t come, we go home. May be they come to-morrow.”
The tent was entirely dark, but the boys were surprised to find that after their eyes had adjusted themselves to the darkness in the tent the water did not appear dark, but was pervaded by a soft light, enabling them to see clearly even insects and small fish which swam past, and they could plainly see their decoy minnow to a depth of four feet.
Tatanka took the string of the decoy in his left hand. In his right hand he held a spear, and the three fishermen seated themselves on a log.
“You sit still,” Tatanka told them. “Don’t jump. Fish have no ears, but they can feel every little noise in the water.”
It seemed a long time to the boys before anything happened. Then Tatanka bent over quickly, thrust his spear into the hole and brought up a large flapping pickerel.
“May be we caught him,” he spoke with a laugh. “Now, Bill, you catch him. This is the way Indians catch plenty fish in winter when they cannot find deer.”
Again Bill waited a long time. At last he saw some big fish. With a beating heart he dropped his spear and would have lost it, if it had not been tied by a string to his arm, but he caught no fish.
Tatanka laughed. “You get much excited,” he said, “like white man. Keep cool like Indian. May be you catch him next time.”
The next time Bill showed that he could keep cool, and he brought up a fine large bass. The fish were getting more numerous and Bill added another and another to his catch. Sometimes several fish or even a small school of them came together. Very soon Bill could tell when a school was coming, because their bodies shut out a part of the light before they reached the hole and made the water look dark, as if a cloud were passing over.