“Now,” said the hunter, as he reached the spot where his canoe was tied, and turned round towards his lagging companion,—“now, sir, what say you to taking a five-pound trout?”
“Perfectly willing,” replied Claud, smiling; “and I would even take up with a smaller one.”
“Well, I won’t,—that is, not much smaller; and I think I’ll have one of at least the size I named.”
“What makes you so confident?”
“Because, it being a hot, shiny morning, they took to their coverts early, and must be sharp-set, by this time. Besides that, it is just about the best time for them that could be got up: a deep cloud, as you see, is coming over the sun, and this wind is moving the water to the bottom. All sizes will now be coming out, and the big ones, like big folks, will make all the little ones stand back till their betters are served.”
Each now taking to his canoe, they pushed out some twenty or thirty rods into the lake, cast anchor, and threw out their lines. Claud, who baited with grubs, soon had drawn in two, weighing as many pounds a piece, and began to feel disposed to banter the hunter, who had baited with a flap of moose-skin, which he had brought along with him, and which, to Claud, seemed little likely to attract the fishes to his hook. But he soon found himself mistaken; for, turning to give utterance to what was passing in his mind, he beheld the other dallying with a trout, which he had hooked, and now held flapping on the surface of the water, evidently much larger than either of his own.
“That is a fine one!” cried Claud. “Why don’t you pull him in?”
“Not big enough,” said the hunter, in reply to the question; while he turned to the fish with an impatient “Pshaw! what work the cretur makes of it! Hop off, hop off, you fool! There,” he added, as the trout at length broke away and disappeared, “there, that is right. Now be off with yourself till you grow bigger, and give me a chance at the fine fellow whose tail I saw swashing up round here just now.”
The hunter then carefully adjusted his bait, and threw out the whole length of his line. After alternately sinking his hook, and then drawing it to the surface, for two or three throws, the line suddenly straightened, moved slowly backward at first, then swept rapidly round and round, or darted off in sharp short angles, with downward and forward plunges so quick and powerful as to make the stout sapling pole sway and bend, like a whipstock, in the steadying hands of the hunter. For four or five minutes he made no attempt to draw in his prize, but let the fish have full play to the length of its tether, till its efforts had become comparatively feeble; when, slowly bringing it alongside, he took the line in his hand, and, with a quick jerk, landed the noble fellow safely on the bottom of the canoe.
“There, sir!” exclaimed the hunter, seizing the trout by the gills, and triumphantly holding it up to view, “there is about what I bargained for: two feet long, not an inch shorter,—seven pounds weight, and not an ounce lighter! Now, being satisfied, I am done.”