Throwing the fish to me, which proved to be a gold-eye, he sprang off, just in time to catch his rod, the end of which was nearly off the bank.
“Och, murther,” he cried out, “but it’s a big one!” and he rushed along the shore, jumping over all impediments; shrieking out in his eagerness in a manner which would have made a sedate Indian fancy that he had gone out of his mind.
I could not help laughing as I watched him.
“Come along, Masther Roger, and lend me a hand, or the baste will be afther getting away.”
Securing our first prize, I followed Mike as he rushed along down the bank, afraid of breaking his line, which was by this time stretched to the utmost. Now he gently pulled it in, now he allowed it to go off again, as he felt the strain increase. By thus dexterously managing the fish for some minutes, he at length brought it close to the shore, and I caught sight of an ugly-looking dark monster.
“Sure, it’s a cat-fish, and mighty good ateing too, though it’s no beauty,” exclaimed Mike. “Get howld of him, Masther Roger; get howld of him, or he will be off.”
Following Mike’s example, I dashed into the water and grasped the huge creature, although, covered as it was with slime, it was no easy matter to do so. Giving it a sudden jerk, I threw it on shore, rushing after it to prevent its floundering back again into its native element. It proved to be a prize worth having, being at least seven or eight pounds in weight. It was a wonder how, with such slight tackle, Mike had contrived to hold it.
We agreed that, as we had now an ample supply of fish for one day at least, we would not run the risk of losing our hooks; and accordingly, carrying our two prizes, we made our way back to the part of the bank we had selected for our camp. It was under a widespreading tree, which extended over the water, and would materially serve to hide a fire, which we agreed to light on a piece of flat ground, almost level with the water. We soon collected a sufficient supply of sticks, and had our fire blazing and our fish cooking. The cat-fish, in spite of its ugly name and uglier looks, proved excellent, though somewhat rich—tasting very like an eel.
Having eaten a hearty meal, and cooked the remainder of our fish for the next day, we put out our fire, and then arranged our dwelling for the night. It consisted simply of branches stuck in the ground, and extending about six feet from the trunk of the tree. We closed the entrance, so that no wolves or bears could pay us a visit without some warning; and kept our spears by our sides, to poke at their noses should they make their appearance.
The night passed quietly away, and the next morning at daylight, having caught our horses, we swam them across the stream. The sun soon dried our clothes, and as we had no fear of starving for that day, we rode merrily onward.