Ptarmigans in flocks of hundreds fed upon the tender tops of the willows that lined the river banks, and these supplied them with an abundance of fresh meat, varied occasionally by rabbits, two or three porcupines and a lynx that Dick shot one day near the tilt. This lynx meat they roasted by an open fire outside the tilt, and considered it a great treat. It may be said that the roasted lynx resembles in flavour and texture prime veal, and it is indeed, when properly cooked, delicious; and the hunter knows how to cook it properly. Trout, too, which they caught through the ice, were plentiful. They had brought with them when coming to the trails in the autumn, tackle for the purpose of securing fish at this time. The lines were very stout, thick ones, and the hooks were large. A good-sized piece of lead, melted and moulded around the stem of the hook near the eye, weighted it heavily, and it was baited with a piece of fat pork and a small piece of red cloth or yarn, tied below the lead. The rod was a stout stick three feet in length and an inch thick.
With this equipment the hook was dropped into the hole and moved up and down slowly, until a fish took hold, when it was immediately pulled out. The trout were very sluggish at this season of the year and made no fight, and were therefore readily landed. The most of them weighed from two to five pounds each, and indeed any smaller than that were spurned and thrown back into the hole "t' grow up," as Ed put it.
One evening a rain set in and for four days and nights it never ceased. It poured down as if the gates of the eternal reservoirs of heaven had been opened and the flood let loose to drown the world. The snow became a sea of slush and miniature rivers ran down to join forces with the larger stream.
At first the waters overflowed the ice, but at last it gave way to the irresistible force that assailed it, and giving way began to move upon the current in great unwieldly masses.
The river rose to its brim and burst its banks. Trees were uprooted, and mingling with the ice surged down towards the sea upon the crest of the unleashed, untamed torrent. The break-up that the men were awaiting had come.
"'Tis sure a fearsome sight," remarked Bill one day when the storm was at its height, as he returned from "a look outside" to join Dick and Ed, who sat smoking their pipes in silence in the tilt.
"An' how'd un like t' be ridin' one o' them cakes o' ice out there, an' no way o' reachin' shore?" asked Ed.
"I wouldn't be ridin' un from choice, an' if I were ridin' un I'm thinkin' 'twould be my last ride," answered Bill.
"Once I were ridin' un, an' ridin' un from choice," said Ed, with the air of one who had a story to tell.
"No you weren't never ridin' un. What un tell such things for, Ed?" broke in Dick. "Un has dreams an' tells un for happenin's, I'm thinkin'."