Such a remark at such a period in the entertainment caused Billie to laugh.
“Why, Archie, you’ve been at work this half-hour, and there’s nothing left to go to work upon now.”
“You know quite well, Little Bill, that I refer to the day’s work. What is it to be? Provisions must be got if the camp is not to starve, and you and I are bound to do our share. Shall we go to Willow Point and shoot ducks and geese, or cross the lake and trawl for fish?”
“Both,” answered the invalid with decision. “We’ll do both. We will paddle to Willow Point, and try for jack-fish on the way.”
“Just so—the very thing, Little Bill. Are you ready to start?”
Billie professed himself quite ready. Archie took him on his back, replaced him in the stern of the canoe in company with the big stone, and then stepped gently into his own place at the bow, where a common trading gun, with the old-fashioned flint lock and single barrel, rested against the gunwale. Pushing off they soon left Breakfast-isle far behind them, and crept swiftly along by the margin of the reeds.
On the way Billie cast out his fishing-line. It was a strong cod-line, with a great cod-hook attached and a lump of fat pork on it; for Archie, in the fervour of hope coupled with piscatorial ignorance and a sanguine disposition, had strongly advised his brother to err, if err he must, on the safe side, and be prepared for anything, from a great lake-serpent to a fresh-water whale.
No civilised fish would have deigned to give a second thought to the obvious deception which a mass of indigestible pork presented, but fish of the backwoods—especially in the early years of this century—were not suspicious. An enormous pike, or “jack-fish,” coveted that bait and took it. Not only so, but it took the great cod-hook and ten inches of the line besides.
A shout such as Billie had not uttered for many months announced the fact.
“Hi! hold on, Archie! Back water! I say, I’d believe I had hanked the bottom if it didn’t tug in such a lively way!”