CHAPTER XIII
GETTING NORTH
“
But we haven’t found George Shannon yet,” again insisted Jesse, at their breakfast.
“And you haven’t run your set line yet, Mr. Jess,” reminded Rob; which was enough to cause Jesse to run down to the bank with his mouth full of bacon. He had forgotten all about his fishing at the time. At once they heard him shout in excitement, and joined him on the bank.
“Geewhillikens!” called Jesse. “I got a whale on here now!”
He was playing a fish on his hand line, taking in and giving line as he could, for the fish was strong. It was some time before they could get to see it, and when Jesse at last landed it on the bank he called for his .22 rifle and shot it through the head.
“There!” he said. “I knew I’d find some big game to shoot. Isn’t he a whale? I’ll bet he’ll go twelve pounds. He’s a whiter cat, and a racier, than the big yellows, down below. He looks gamier and better to eat.”