“Well, that is fishing!” remarked Richards. “I never landed a fish as big as that before.”
“Yes,” I answered; “we’re getting near the headwaters of the river now, where the big fish are always found.”
“I never expected any such sport as that. It’s worth the hard work just for this hour’s fishing.”
“You’ll get plenty more of it before we’re through the country. There are some big fellows under that rapid. The Indians told us we should find salmon in this section too, but we’re ahead of the salmon, I think. They’re hardly due for a month yet.”
“Let’s show the fellows the trout, first. They’re big enough to make ’em open their eyes. Then we’ll spring the ouananiche on ’cm and they’ll faint. It’ll, be enough to make Easton want to come and try a cast too.”
So when we pushed through the dripping bushes to the tent we presented only the few big trout, which did indeed create a sensation. Then Richards brought forward his ouananiche, and it produced the desired effect. After supper Pete and Easton must try their hand at the fish, and they succeeded in catching five trout averaging, we estimated, from two to three pounds each. Richards, however, still held the record as to big fish, both trout and ouananiche, and the others vowed they would take it from him if they had to fish nights to do it.
En route up the river, in the afternoon, Pete had shot a muskrat, and I asked him that night what he was going to do with it.
“I don’t know,” he answered. “Muskrat no good now.”
“Well, never kill any animal while you are with me that you cannot use, except beasts of prey.”
This was one of the rules that I had laid down at the beginning: that no member of the party should kill for the sake of killing any living thing. I could not be angry with Pete, however, for he was always so goodnatured. No matter how sharply I might reprove him, in five minutes he would be doing something for my comfort, or singing some Indian song as he went lightheartedly about his work. I understood how hard it was for him to down the Indian instinct to kill, and that the muskrat bad been shot thoughtlessly without considering for a moment whether it were needed or not. The flesh of the muskrat at this season of the year is very strong in flavor and unpalatable, and besides, with the grouse that were occasionally killed, the fish that we were catching, and the dried venison still on hand, we could not well use it. No fur is, of course, in season at this time of year, and so there was no excuse for killing muskrats for the pelts.