“’Twould that!” enthused David. “I’m wonderful hungry for fish, too. But I was forgettin’ about Christmas. Up here on th’ trails I never thinks of un at all.”
“We’ll have t’ fix up a good feed for Christmas,” declared Indian Jake, “and we’ll make it out somehow. Even if ’tis only fish.”
As soon as it was light, and long before sunrise, the three with their improvised fishing tackle, and each carrying his ax, set forth upon Seal Lake. Indian Jake led the way to a point a half mile from the tilt, and directly above the Narrows.
“We’ll cut our holes here,” he announced. “Spread out a little and don’t cut ’em too near together.”
It was no small task. A coating of hard-packed snow was first removed. Then came the ice, which was now over three feet in thickness. The holes when finished were three feet in diameter at the top, tapering down to a foot and a half at the bottom like a funnel.
“Now,” said Indian Jake when all was ready, “we’ll see whether we’re goin’t’ get any fish.”
David’s baited hook had hardly sunk below the surface of the water when he felt a tug, and an instant later he drew out a whitefish that he was quite sure weighed four pounds at the very least. A little later Indian Jake drew out another, and almost at the same moment Andy gave a shout as he landed still another.
“Looks like we’re goin’ t’ get whitefish, whatever,” said Indian Jake.
Standing still upon the open ice soon became cold and disagreeable work. The lines quickly became encrusted with a thick coating of ice, and it was necessary to keep them moving up and down in the hole, else the water would freeze at once. Even then they must clear away the accumulated ice frequently.