Dick Onslow Among the Redskins

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Twenty One.

I exhaust Bruin’s patience—Manufacture some fishing-lines, and descend from my perch in the tree—Catch a big fish to my great joy, with no little trouble, and cook it—Many a slip between the spit and the lip—My fish is admirably dressed but disappears, though not down my throat—I set to work again and catch more fish—Continue my journey; am almost starved—My ammunition exhausted—See some horses—Fall in with some Indians—They prove to be friends—Accompany me on my journey, and conduct me to the camp of the Raggets—We reach California, where I terminate the adventures which I now give to the public.

I do not mind confessing that I felt anything but happy perched up at the top of a tree in that wild American forest, with a hungry and cunning bear growling away for his breakfast below me. I too was beginning to feel faint for want of food. The bear seemed to know that, and to have hopes of starving me into submission. On that point, however, I determined to disappoint him. Sooner than go down and be eaten I resolved to die up in the tree, and then he would get nothing but my dry bones for his pains. I tried his patience I saw, for he growled and growled louder and more fiercely, and then began to lick his paws, as a baby does its fingers to amuse itself when hungry. Two or three times he began to climb up the tree; but the way in which I flourished the pole in his face, and his recollection that he could not reach me at the end of the branch to which I retired, made him speedily again descend. The sun was now up and warm, and it struck me that if I could dry some of my powder I might turn the tables on him, and eat him instead of his eating me. I therefore cleared out a hollow in a branch, into which I poured a charge of powder, and then cleaned my rifle and picked out the touch-hole.

I was determined not to be idle, and so, remembering my fish-hooks, I set to work to manufacture a line. The threads were short, but I knotted them neatly. I tried the strength of each one separately, and those which broke I strengthened with line, which I twisted up. I thus sat knotting and spinning, with as much coolness as I could command, till I had finished my line, and thought my powder was dry. I then put up my line, carefully loaded my rifle, and muttered, “Now, Master Bruin, look out for yourself.” Whether he divined what I was about, or had grown tired of waiting for his breakfast and was going elsewhere in search of it, I cannot say, but before I could find a satisfactory rest for my piece, so as to point it down at him, he turned round and began trotting briskly away. I instantly fired, in the hopes of obtaining some bear steaks for my breakfast. The rifle went off, nearly knocking me over from my bough, and the ball hit him, but not in a vital part, for on he went, growling furiously, till he was lost to sight in the depths of the forest, and I must say that I heartily hoped I might never see his ugly face again. I suspect that I considerably damped his appetite for breakfast. As mine was sharper than ever, and I could not make it off bear, I descended from my perch that I might try and catch some fish. I quickly cut a fishing-rod, and a piece of light bark to serve as a float, and my movements being hastened by hunger, in a few minutes, having caught some creatures on the bank to serve as bait, I was bending over the stream as assiduously as old Izaak Walton himself.

What was my delight in a few minutes to feel a bite! I was an expert fisherman, but so great was my agitation that I could scarcely give the necessary jerk to hook my fish. It is very different fishing for pleasure and fishing for the pot or spit when starving. Away went the float bobbing down the stream. It must be done. I jerked up my rod. How breathless I felt! The fish was hooked, of that I was sure, as also that he was a good-sized fellow. Down the stream swam the fish, and along the bank I followed him. I knew that my tackle was not over strong, and I was anxious to secure a good place for landing him.

At last I reached a flat rock. “Now I will have him,” I said to myself, and I drew his nose up the stream. I got sight of him through the clear water. He was a trout, three or four pounds weight at least. What a hearty breakfast I would make of him! I felt very nervous, because as there was very little bend in my rod, if he gave a sudden jerk he would too probably snap the line or the hook, and be out of my sight for ever. The water was somewhat deep below me, or I should have pushed into the stream and clutched him in my arms, much in the same way as the bear would have clutched me, if he could, and with the same object. Slowly and cautiously I drew him nearer and nearer the shore. He came along pretty quietly. He was pretty well exhausted with his previous swim.

Had I possessed a landing-net I could have had him ashore in a moment; but I trembled when I thought of the little pliability there was at the end of my stick to counteract any sudden jerk he might give. There he was, scarcely six feet from me, and yet I could not reach him. I drew him still closer, kneeling down as I did so, and then lowering my rod I made a dart at him. He was quicker than I was, and with a whisk of his tail off he darted, with the hook still in his mouth, dragging the rod after him. I made a dash at the rod, but missed it, and away it floated down the stream. After it I went though, watching it as it bobbed up and down, and dreading lest it should catch fast among some stones, and the fish break away. The stream was here narrow, deep, and rapid. Lower down it was broader, and I hoped might be shallow. I ran on, therefore, and found it as I had hoped. Down came the rod towards me. “Was the fish on to it, though?” I seized hold of the butt-end and lifted it up. Yes, there he was. He could scarcely escape me now. Slowly I drew him up toward me, and slipping my fingers down the line, eagerly seized him by the gills. I had him fast, and was not likely to let him go. I carried him on shore, and throwing him on the ground, speedily began to collect sticks to make a fire. Those near at hand would not burn, so I went further away from the stream to collect some more.

While thus engaged, I saw a lynx steal out of the forest and go in the direction of my proposed fire. I had collected as many sticks as I could carry, and was returning as fast as I could, when I saw the lynx go close up to where I had left my fish. It stooped down, and then trotted on. I rushed on, as fast as my legs could carry me, till I reached the spot. My fish was gone. I shrieked and shouted after the lynx, whirling my stick at him, but it was to no purpose. He had found a good breakfast, and was not going to give it up in a hurry. I shouted and shrieked, and ran and ran, till at length I knocked my foot against the sharp end of a broken branch which brought me crying out with pain to the ground. The lynx, holding the fish in his jaws, turned a look of derision at me, as he disappeared in the forest. Did I lie there and howl like a wounded dog? No; I should be ashamed to acknowledge it, had I done so. Instead of that, as soon as the pain would allow me, I got up on my feet, hobbled back to where I had left my rod, searched for some fresh bait, and set to work to catch another fish.

Not a minute had passed before I got a bite. I quickly hooked my fish, and hauled up one of about half a pound weight. As that would not be sufficient for my breakfast, I thought it would be wise to restrain my appetite till I had caught some more, as possibly when the sun rose higher they might not bite so readily. Not half a minute passed before I caught a second, and in five minutes, with very little difficulty, I had caught as many fish as would equal the weight of the one I had lost. This time I took care to keep them about me till I had lighted my fire, and stuck them on sticks roasting round it. I kept, too, vigilant watch lest my old enemy, Bruin, or the watchful lynx should return to rob me of my repast.

One of the fish was soon sufficiently warmed to enable me to eat it, and one after the other disappeared, giving me a satisfaction which the most highly seasoned feast has never been able to afford. I washed the fish down with a copious draught of water, and then felt myself ready for anything. This part of the river was evidently well supplied with fish, so before leaving it I again took my rod in hand, and in half an hour caught enough fish to last me for a couple of days. I had lost my hat in the river, so I now made myself a curious conical-shaped head-covering with some rushes and long grass, and what with my bare legs, my feet swathed in bandages, and my sleeveless jacket, I must have had a very Robinson Crusoe appearance. As there was no one to see me, this was of no consequence.