Three Boys in the Wild North Land

by Egerton Ryerson Young

For the first firing it was decided that it should be simultaneous, and then after that it was each canoe for itself, and they were not to meet till they reached Mr Ross’s launch.

This method of fishing is very novel. The guns, heavily loaded with powder, are fired as nearly over the fish as it is possible to be done from the canoe. The concussion of the air seems to so stun them that they stiffen out on their backs, and there lie apparently dead for a minute or so. The men hunting them, aware of this, the instant they have fired immediately set to work with their long-handled gaff hooks, and gather in as many as they can ere the fish return to consciousness, and those not captured instantly swim off.

When all have been secured at that place as the result of that one heavy discharge of the gun, the canoe is paddled away to another spot where it is observed that the fish are plentiful near the surface and the process is repeated. So for this kind of fishing all that is necessary is the gun, with a plentiful supply of powder, and the gaff hook. A good deal of skill is required for the efficient management of the hook in seizing the fish so that it can be successfully landed over the side of the canoe.

For a time the success of the boys was about equal, but they did not capture after each shot anything like the number of fish that their able-bodied, experienced Indians would have done. It is no easy matter to lift a twenty or thirty pound fish by a hook over the side of a canoe. The boat itself is so cranky, and the fish themselves are generally so full of life and fight, that there is a good deal of risk and excitement, after all, about this kind of sport. It is no uncommon thing for an upset to occur in the risk and glorious uncertainty of capturing a large, gamy fellow who makes a stubborn fight.

The three canoes gradually separated, and to judge by the frequent reports of the guns they were having a good deal of sport. About eight p.m. they were all back at Sagasta-weekee, and each had a different story to tell.

Frank had over a score of very fine fish, and had had only one fall into the water. He had hooked in his gaff a large, vigorous fish, and was making the most careful efforts to hang on to him and to lift him over the side of the canoe. Just as he had him nicely out of the water, the fish, by a sudden furious struggle, wrenched himself off the hook and fell back in the water.

Frank had been so firmly holding on that when the weight of the fish was so suddenly gone he could not master his balance, and before an Indian could seize hold of him he tumbled head first into the water on the other side of the canoe, and the last the Indians saw of him for some seconds were the bottoms of his moccasins. Quickly did he reappear and was soon helped into the canoe; but while he pluckily stuck to the sport for some time, the prudent Indians persuaded him to allow them to early paddle him home. So he had been the first to arrive.

Sam’s canoe arrived somewhat later; he also had a goodly supply of fish. As he was saturated with water, the question was at once asked, what had been his mishap.

At first he was a little glum about it, but the cry of “Tell us all about it,” had to be responded to.

It had been decided some time before that on their returning from these different excursions each one was to fairly and squarely give the story of his misadventures, blunders, and failures, as well as of his triumphs and successes. So Sam had to own up, and he began by the odd question: