“Sure, the rimedy is worse nor the disease!” he complained.
“That’s all right,” said Jack; “just stand the pain for a little. It’s an insurance against blood poisoning. Many a hunter has lost his life from little cuts no worse than yours, when they were caused by the claws of a wild beast. My father would not let me come out unless I carried this.”
“What is it, Jack?” asked Herb, curiously.
“A strong tincture of permanganate of potash,” was the reply. “Just remember that, will you; and it’s got to be powerful enough to hurt like fun; eh, Jimmie?”
“Indade it did, that,” was the immediate response; while the Irish boy screwed up his good humored face in a knot.
Jack went back to his fishing, for he had already managed to take one pretty good specimen of the Lake Superior speckled trout that would have weighed nearly four pounds; and was eager for more.
All the while he sat there, employing every device he knew of to tempt the finny denizens of the depths to bite, he kept one eye to windward. That low bank of clouds interested him; for it seemed to presage a storm.
Since everything possible had been attended to in order to ward off any evil effects of a gale, Jack did not stop fishing until he had succeeded in catching a fine mess, that would please the heart of Buster.
Josh was preparing the fish as fast as they were caught. Indeed, he dispatched Nick several times to see if there were any more forthcoming; when the sportsman would toss ashore his latest catch, and the cook’s assistant hurry back with the prize, his hungry eyes fairly glistening with anticipation.
Of course it was a royally good supper that followed. Josh cooked the trout in the same capable manner he had served the lake white fish; and every fellow declared they had never tasted anything more delicious.