Low tide had left but a narrow and shallow channel, across which had been placed a weir, composed of brush. The bottom of the channel was solid rock, and to keep the weir in position, and to prevent the rapid tides carrying it out, heavy beams had been laid down and pinned to the rock bed with iron bolts. To these beams were attached the posts supporting the weir.
The place had been well chosen. The water at certain times of the tide was but a few inches deep at the shallowest point. From this point each way the water deepened gradually. About fifty yards from this shallow point, in the direction the tide takes when running out, the weir was placed. In this way the shallow water prevented the fish escaping back into the sea, and the weir shut them off from the water on the other side. In this pond, so to speak, they were kept till the tide rose again. Yet there was a broad stretch of water for them to move about to escape the efforts of the beaters to strike them. At other times the tide did not fall low enough to enable the salmon to be caught. As it happened, the tide now ran low, and the fish had come in, and there was considerable excitement apparent in the efforts made to secure the valuable fish.
The water was perfectly clear, and the school of salmon could be seen darting about easily in the deeper tide. Often, when separated, they leaped into the air, or broke the bright surface of the water into tiny ripples which showed the rapid movements of their silvery bodies. When in the shallower places their fins could be seen as they curved back into deeper water.
A party of American tourists from the hotel on the mainland was now approaching, to witness the capture of the salmon. Winslow in a few moments found himself in the water, where he was soon joined by others. Each took up a position and was provided with a pole.
The work now began in earnest. The men thrashed here and there, and as the salmon darted about they attempted to strike the water above them so as to stun them till they could be taken to the shore. Often in the excitement somebody would fall into the water, or would be well splashed by somebody else, and thus for some minutes the scene was a lively as well as a noisy one.
Each salmon stunned by a blow was carried to shore, and all were captured but one, very large and swift, which had eluded the efforts of the beaters.
Suddenly it darted into the shadow of one of the beams supporting the weir poles. Seeing this, Pierre, who had taken no part in the killing of the salmon, called the other men away from the fish, and approaching from the other side of the log, slipped his hand over it. He touched the side of the fish with his fingers, and at once the salmon inclined towards his hand, and in another moment Pierre slipped his fingers into its gills and lifted it from the water.
The exclamations of surprise that this feat elicited were interrupted by loud laughter from Len Lawson, who was having some amusement at the expense of one of the strangers. This gentleman had removed his glasses, and being near-sighted, had attacked a large fish which he supposed was a salmon. Len drew it from the water, and held it up to view as Pierre was carrying to shore the salmon he had caught. It proved to be a large and extremely ugly fish, with head out of all proportion to its body, and known as a sculpin, a fish without any apparent use in nature. As he approached to examine it more closely Len threw it towards him, and in stepping back to avoid it he fell with a splash into the water.
"Another salmon," cried Len, as he threw it. "May you enjoy it when it is served."
When the stranger rose to his feet again Len feared that he had gone too far with the joke, and said,