Natu salmon,” said Skookie one morning, poking his head in at the door of the barabbara, where the others still sat, washing up the breakfast dishes.
“What’s that he says, John?” asked Rob, who seemed less ready than the younger boy to pick up the native speech.
“Natu means nothing or no or not,” interpreted John. “What’s the matter with the salmon, Skookie?”
They all crawled out of the low-hung door and followed the Aleut to the spot where they had left their fish concealed. They found nothing but stripped bones. Around the spot hung a crowd of great ravens and crows, protesting at being disturbed at this easy meal.
“We had six fine salmon there last night,” grieved Jesse. “They’re awfully hard to catch now, too, because they’ve got shy in the shallow water. They’re all down in the big hole at the mouth of the creek, and it’s going to be harder and harder to get any. As for the whale meat that the old chief left, I don’t suppose it was salted enough, and it probably won’t keep.”
“We’ll have to build some sort of shelter for our fish and game,” said Rob, looking at the havoc which had been wrought by the birds. “It isn’t right to waste even salmon, abundant as they are—although they may not be so abundant after this, as you say, Jesse.”
“I’ll tell you what,” said John, after a moment’s thought, “I’ve got an idea!”
“Well, what is it?”
“You know, there was Uncle Dick’s fishing-rod we brought with us in the dory. I took it out and pushed it under a log at the top of the beach wall. Now, I put that rod in the boat carefully myself, because I knew how much Uncle Dick thought of it. I don’t suppose he’ll thank us for bringing it away, because it’s his best trout rod.”
“I don’t see what use it would be to us,” said Jesse. “It’s too light to tie a grab hook to, and even if you hooked it into a salmon the rod would break.”