CHAPTER VI.

THE FIRST DAY'S SPORT.

Ethan and his son soon had breakfast ready for the campers, and as they had brought with them from home some dainty viands such as only the housewives of the region knew how to prepare, these, with the food the fishermen cooked, made a repast over which even a king might have rejoiced, especially if he could have boasted of such an appetite as the lads on Pine Tree Island had.

None of them was thinking, however, of kings or of kingly appetites that morning; and when at last the boys ceased, chiefly because even the well-spread table had been cleared, Jock turned to Ethan and said, "Where are you going to take us to-day?"

"Fishin'."

"Yes, I know; but where are we going to fish?"

"Oh, I haven't jest made up my mind yet. Mebbe in one place, and then again mebbe in another. Will try our luck till we strike what we want."

Perceiving that Ethan was averse to committing himself on such delicate matters, Jock called to his companions and they at once began to collect their rods and the various necessities of the day, and by the time they had all things ready, Ethan and Tom had stored away the cooking utensils, and soon after came to the dock.

"Is it safe to leave everything here in the camp without any one to watch it?" said Bob.

"Hey?" replied Ethan. "Safe? 'Tisn't goin' to rain to-day."

"Oh, I wasn't afraid of the weather. I didn't know but some one might come along and, finding no one in the camp, help himself; that's all."

"Folks is honest here," said Ethan, gruffly. "I s'pose you have to keep your doors locked down to New York, don't ye?"

"Why, yes, we usually do," said Bert.

"Well, I'm glad I don't live there, that's all I can say then. I haven't got a lock on my house over at the Corners, and I haven't had since I built, nigh on twenty-two years ago."

"What!" exclaimed Ben. "You don't mean to say you don't lock up nights, do you?"

"That's just what I mean to say. I never had nothin' stole since I've lived here. Folks is honest here, I tell ye. If anything is taken, it'll be because some o' the city folks what come down here summers has taken it. The city must be a dreadful place to live in. They say even flowers won't grow there; an' if the posies don't like it, I don't know what it must be when it comes to huming bein's and boys. Heow ye goin' to divide up yer party?"

It was speedily arranged that Jock and Bob should go with Ethan, and the other boys with Tom. The skiffs were at once prepared, and when the fishing tackle had been placed on board, the boys took their seats as the men directed.

What a delightful experience it was, they all thought. The skiffs were models of beauty and grace, and the seats the boys occupied were cane chairs from which the legs had been cut, and were also provided with cushions. Bob was seated in the stern and Jock in the bow, with Ethan between them, and in the other boat a similar arrangement had been made.

As soon as he perceived that they were ready, Ethan grasped the oars, and with steady strokes began to row out into the river. The water over which they passed was clear and beautiful. Scarcely a breeze ruffled the surface, and as the light skiff darted ahead, it almost seemed as if it required no effort to send it forward.

"I don't know but ye might as well bait up," said Ethan, when they had gone a few hundred yards from the camp. "I don't s'pose ye'll catch anything here, but there's no harm in tryin'. It's about time for the muscalonge to begin to run, an' who knows but ye might strike one?"

Ethan rested on his oars, and taking first one of the lines and then the other, attached a live minnow to each of the hooks, and threw them overboard.

"Neow, let out about a hundred an' twenty-five or fifty feet," he said, "an' we'll troll till we get where we're goin' first."

Far behind on one side of the skiff stretched Jock's line, and on the other was Bob's, and as they paid out the slender cord they could see that their friends in the other boat, which was distant about two hundred yards, had followed their example.

"This is what I call great sport," said Jock, contentedly.

"It is pretty good," replied Bob. "At least it isn't what you call actual labor, except for Ethan. I think it's rather my way of fishing. I've heard them tell about catching trout with an eight-ounce rod, and how a fellow has to crawl through the bushes and tumble over the logs, and then he makes his cast. He mustn't move, they say, not even if a million million mosquitoes and black flies light on his hand; and then if he succeeds, at last he yanks up a little speckled trout that weighs about four ounces, and he thinks he's had a great catch. No, I think this is the situation which is better adapted to my precious and delicate frame," and as he spoke Bob stretched himself out lazily in his chair and permitted his rod to rest on the boat, while he gazed about him with an air of deep satisfaction and content.

And truly there was much to produce that feeling. The early sunlight now flashed across the water and covered all things with its halo. In the distance were the dark green forests, and here and there among the islands, or on the main shore, the rising curls of smoke indicated the location of the cottages or summer camps. The very air was a tonic; or, as Jock declared, 'it seemed to him it was so laden with life that he could almost bite it off.'

And all the time the two boats were moving slowly and steadily over the water, Ethan pulling lightly at the oars and from time to time glancing keenly at the lines, which seemed to fade away in the river. The calls of the far-away crows or the sight of a great hawk circling high in the heavens above them only increased the wildness of the scene, and for a time the roar of the great city and the sight of its crowded streets seemed only like the memory of a dream. Even the occupation in which the boys were supposed to be engaged seemed unreal, and Bob closed his eyes dreamily and permitted the rays of the sun to strike him full in the face.

"I say, Ethan," said Bob, opening his eyes lazily, "don't you think it hurts the fish you put on those hooks?"

"Hurt 'em? Naw! Fish hasn't any feelin's."

"How do you know that, Ethan?"

"They never make no complaint, do they?"

"Yes, they kick."

"No, they don't kick. They can't kick without legs, can they? They jest wiggle."

"It's all the same. It seems pretty hard to put 'em on those hooks."

"Hard? Not a bit. It's give an' take with a fish. The big fish eat the little ones, and the little ones eat the smaller fellows. Now it's only gettin' what they tried to give, that's all; and they can't complain."

Bob made no reply, and settled back into his former lazy attitude. Ethan still rowed slowly on, casting occasional glances at the lines, which the boys had apparently forgotten. But the fisherman knew what was unknown by the others in the boat, and that was that they were approaching a shoal, and it was not unlikely that something might happen here of interest to all on board.

Suddenly Bob sat erect in his seat and made a frantic grasp at his rod, which had almost been torn from his hands.

"Hold on, Ethan," he said quickly. "My hook's caught on the bottom."

The fisherman smiled, but made no reply as he backed water and swung the little boat around in the current.

"Caught on the bottom, did ye?" he inquired sharply. "Well, that doesn't look much like bottom!"

As he spoke, about a hundred feet in the rear of the boat a good-sized fish leaped from the surface in the sight of them all, and almost seemed to shake himself as a dog does when he has been in the water.

"Bass," said Ethan, laconically. "Now look out heow ye play him. Don't give him any slack. Be careful. Keep yer hand on the reel."

It is doubtful whether Bob heard any of the boatman's directions, for he was all excitement now. He stood up in the boat and gave all his attention to the fish, which was struggling to free himself. Again and again the tip of the rod was drawn under the water, and the "zip" of the line as it sped from the reel was distinctly heard.

The bass was well hooked, and for a time the struggle became most exciting. Again and again Bob brought the fish near to the boat, and then, with a dart and a rush, away the victim would go, making the reel sing as the line was drawn out.

"Be careful," muttered Ethan. "You'll tucker him out pretty quick, an' then we'll have him. Give him the line, but don't let him have any slack. That's right. Let him go," he added, as once more the fish darted toward the deeper water.

Bob steadily held to his task, and when he felt that the run of the bass was ended, began once more to reel him in toward the boat. The fish was evidently tired now, and his resistance was much less strong. Nearer and nearer the eager boy brought him, and soon, peering over the side of the boat, could see in the clear water the movements of the struggling fish. Ethan had grasped his landing-net, and was ready for the last effort.

"Bring him up near the boat now," he said, "and we've got him. Look sharp, and don't give him any slack!" he added, as the fish, perhaps having caught sight of the boat, began once more to struggle desperately. Darting first in one direction and then in another he made the line cut deeply into the water, while more than once he dragged the rod far below the surface.

"Look out, now! Don't give him any slack! Bring him up alongside!" called Ethan, as with his landing-net in the water he endeavored to thrust it under the struggling fish.

But, alas! in his excitement Bob either neglected the directions given him or was unable to comply, for somehow his grasp on the reel was removed, the line sped out, and when the excited lad began to reel in again, the tension was suddenly relaxed, and with a quick movement of the boat he was thrown back into the chair.

"He's gone! He's got away!" exclaimed Bob, ruefully.

"So I see," remarked Ethan, as he calmly picked up his oars and resumed his labors.

"But he was a big fellow!" protested Bob, "and I had him right up to the boat."

"He was a pretty good one," said Ethan, "but it's a game of 'now you see him and now you don't.' It's a good deal of a trick to know how to land a three-pound bass. Still, you didn't do so very bad for a greenhorn."

Bob made no reply as he slowly reeled in his line at the boatman's direction. Greenhorn! Well, there were some things he did not know, although he had spent much time in the city. To his mind Ethan, with all his good qualities, had been the greenhorn; but now the boatman was the one to accuse him of the possession of that very quality. His respect for Ethan went up instantly, and he looked up at him in a new light.

"You'll soon get the hang o' it," said Ethan kindly, as he proceeded to bait Bob's hook again. "You did first-rate for a beginner. The main thing is to look out for yer slack. A bass is a fighter, and he'll take advantage o' ye every time you give him a chance. I think we'll try it again around this shoal. One strike may bring another."

"Why do the bass come to the shoals, Ethan?" inquired Jock.

"That's where the minnies [Ethan meant minnows] are, and they're the ones the bass feed on. Now we'll try it again."

Once more Ethan began to row, and the long lines dragged on behind the boat. Both boys were all eagerness now, and Bob's laziness had departed. They watched and waited for the longed-for "strike," and soon to Bob's great delight he felt the tug upon his line which indicated that his hook had again been seized.

"Now be careful, son," said Ethan, "and mind you don't give him any slack."

Mindful of the caution, Bob worked carefully, and after a time succeeded in bringing the fish up to the boat, when Ethan deftly thrust the landing-net underneath it and threw it into the boat, and with a blow of a stout hickory club speedily put an end to the struggle.

"I 'most always does that," he explained. "I don't s'pose a fish knows anything about it, but I don't like to see 'em go ker-flop, ker-flop! so I puts 'em out o' their misery. Besides, they're better eatin' when ye treat 'em that way."

"This one is a little fellow," said Bob, regretfully, as he gazed at the fish, which now had been thrown into the fish-box. "The other must have been ten times as large as this one. That was a monster!"

"The big ones 'most always gets away," replied Ethan, smilingly. "An' they grow mighty fast, too, sometimes. The farther away they git the bigger they be."

"What do you mean?"

"Oh, nothin'; but that I've knowed a man when he was out with me to lose a half-pound bass, an' by the time he got back to the camp or the hotel, that 'ere bass weighed a plump five pound. It's marvellous like, the way they grow sometimes."

"Where's the other boat?" said Jock.

"I dunno. We'll let 'em look after themselves a bit. We'll try it here again afore we leave. It's your turn next to get one."

Eager to continue the sport, the boys once more let out their lines, as Ethan began to row slowly over the shoal again.