The next thing was to establish a fishery.
The buffalo might fail us, and so might the fish, but we must try both; and as I happened to be the only one in our party who knew anything about nets and fishing, this work came to me. So I began to overhaul what nets Mr. Woolsey had, and went to work mending and fixing them up.
About twenty-five miles north of us was a lake, in which a species of white-fish were said to abound, and our plan was to make a road out to that and give it a fair trial.
In the meantime, because of an extra soaking I got in a rain storm, I had a severe attack of inflammation, and, to use another western phrase, had a "close call." But Mr. Woolsey proved to be a capital nurse and doctor combined. He physicked, and blistered, and poulticed for day and night, and I soon got better, but was still weak and sore when we started for the lake.
I took both Glad and Neils with me, our plan being to saw lumber and make a boat, and then send Glad back, and Neils and I go on with the fishing.
Behold us then started, the invalid of the party on horseback, and Glad and Neils each with an axe in hand, and leading an ox on whose back our whole outfit was packed—buffalo lodge tents, bedding, ammunition, kettles, cups, whip-saw, nails, tools, everything we must have for our enterprise.
These oxen had never been packed before, and were a little frisky about it, and several times made a scattering of things before they settled down to steady work.
THE START TO THE FISHERY