The Plant Hunters: Adventures Among the Himalaya Mountains

by Mayne Reid

Karl had not been very long gone when Caspar and Ossaroo both left the hut, but not together. They parted from each other, taking different directions. Caspar had his gun, and went forth to search for game; while Ossaroo proceeded towards the lake, with the intention of capturing fish.

As nothing particular happened to Caspar—not even so much as the starling of a head of game, or the getting a shot at any thing—there is nothing to tell about him; and I shall therefore proceed at once to Ossaroo and his adventure.

The shikarree, on arriving at the lake, soon found a proper place to set his net in. There was a little bay on one side that ran for some twenty or more yards into the land, and ended just at the embouchure of the little rivulet that came from the hot springs.

This bay was narrower at its mouth than elsewhere, where it formed a kind of miniature “straits.” The water in the bay was of considerable depth; but just at its entrance, where the straits were, it was not over three feet, with a white sandy bottom that could be seen shining like silver. Any one standing near this point, in clear weather, could easily observe fishes of several sorts and different sizes passing into the bay and out of it, and disporting themselves over the white sand bed that shone sparkling beneath them. It was an interesting sight to watch them at their innocent gambols, and the boys had more than once gone down to the edge of the straits to observe them.

But Ossaroo had always regarded the sight rather with feelings of chagrin than pleasure; for plainly as these beautiful fish could be seen, not one of them could he capture. Even the shoal-water of the straits, where there was a sort of bar, was too deep to be dammed up in any way, and Ossaroo had tried one or two plans for taking the fish, without effect. He had used his bow, and endeavoured to kill them with arrows; but they swam too deep, and, somehow or another, he always missed them. The fact was that Ossaroo was not practised in shooting fish with the arrow; and not understanding any thing about optics or the laws of refraction, he missed his mark by aiming too high.

Had he been an Indian of North or South America, instead of an Indian of the “East Indies,” he would have pierced those fishes with an arrow at every twang of his bow.

Instead of that, he only missed them, and was constantly wading in to recover his arrows, but never to bring out any fish. He was, therefore, rather chagrined than pleased to see them so fearlessly and freely playing about over the silvery sand; and this very chagrin had caused him to work with greater diligence while preparing his mesh-net.

The net was now ready, and Ossaroo walked along chuckling and congratulating himself on the prospect of speedy revenge—for he had actually become inspired with a revengeful feeling against the poor fish, because he had not been able to capture and kill them!

The place where Ossaroo intended to set his net was across the strait that formed the mouth of the aforesaid bay. He had designed the net for this very place; and had made it of such length, that when at full stretch, it would just reach from one side to the other.

The upper edge of the net was attached to a strong piece of raw hide, for this was more easily attainable than a rope of hemp; and on the lower edge there was another strip of hide, to which were fastened the sinkers. These, with the floats at the top—made out of a sort of light-wood that he had found in the valley—would keep the meshes fully spread, and hold the net in a vertical position.