CHAPTER VII.

IN GOOSE BAY.

The success which attended their efforts was not great, and after a few more bass had been taken, Jock, to his chagrin, not having even one strike, Ethan decided to leave that ground for another.

"I think I'll take ye over to Goose Bay," he said. "That's where I told Tom to go, and probably they're there by this time."

"That's historic ground, isn't it, Ethan?" inquired Bob.

"Yes. The British and Yankees had a bit of a go round there in the War of 1812. I'll show ye jest where it was when we get there."

"How did you know there was a fight there, Bob?" said Jock, quickly.

"'Most everybody knows about that, I s'pose," said Ethan, before Bob could reply. "Everybody round these parts has heard of it."

Bob looked up at Jock and winked slowly. "Do you remember what Oliver Wendell Holmes said about every little place he went to thinking it was the central spot of all the world, and that the axis of the earth came straight up through it? He went down to a little place named Hull, once, and when he came away he said the people there were all quoting Pope, though they didn't know it, and saying, 'all are but parts of one stupendous Hull'! Remember that, Jock?"

"Ye needn't be makin' fun o' me," said Ethan, sharply. "I guess folks round here is as smart as they be anywhere. You city people talk about how green country folks are when they come to teown, but I don't believe they're any greener than city folks be when they go into the country."

"I didn't mean that," said Bob, quickly. "I was only wondering a little why it was that you thought everybody ought to know about Goose Bay, and the time the British and our men had here in the War of 1812."

"Why shouldn't they know about it, I'd like to know?" replied Ethan, somewhat mollified. "It's hist'ry; an' ye study hist'ry, don't ye?"

"We pretend to; but Jock here doesn't know much about it, you see," said Bob.

"He'll larn. But I was speakin' about the greenness o' city folks in the country. Well, they be green. My wife had a time of it with the fresh airers only last summer."

"The 'fresh airers'? What are they?"

"Don't ye know what they be? Well, I swan, ye're greener 'n I thought. They're the boys an' girls the folks pick up off the streets in the city and send up into the country every summer. We had some last year."

"Oh, yes, I know. You mean the children sent out by the fresh-air fund."

"I s'pose I do. We call 'em 'fresh airers' up here."

"What did they do?" inquired Jock.

"Lots o' things. Two of 'em--we had five to our house--was walkin' along the road with me the next day after they come, an' one little fellow ran up the bank an' began to pick some buttercups what was growin' there. The other little chap was scared like, an' he called out, pretty sharp, 'Hi, there, Henry! Keep off the grass or the cop'll get ye!' An' he meant it too."

"Poor little wretches," said Jock, sympathizingly.

"'Twasn't whether they was wretches or not; 'twas their greenness I was thinkin' on. We had a lot o' bee-hives out near the back door, an' after dinner that same day my wife looked out the window an' she see that same little chap there with a stick in his hand. He'd jest poked one o' the hives over, and the bees was fightin' mad. She was scared 'most out o' her seven senses, my wife was, an' she jest grabbed her sunbunnit an' hurried out o' the house an' screamed to that young 'un to come on. He didn't want to come, an' was layin' about him with his stick; but my wife ran out an' grabbed him by the hand an' they started up the hill 'lickety-whew, yer journey pursue,' an' the bees after 'em. They finally made eout to get free from 'em, an' then the little shaver was for goin' back an' havin' it out with 'em. 'Them bugs bit me,' he says, says he, 'an' I'm goin' to go back and fight 'em.'"

Both the boys laughed heartily at Ethan's narrative, and now that his good humor was restored, he said, "Wasn't that greenness for ye? That same little chap was a great one, he was. He was tickled to pieces to gather the hens' eggs. He'd be out in the barn an' kep' so close after the hens they didn't have a chance to hop onto a nest, so that my wife had to tell him that he mustn't go out there for the eggs except when she told him he could. He teased like a good fellow, an' finally 'bout noon the next day she told him he could go out an' get the eggs. He was gone a long time, an' she kind o' mistrusted some-thin' was wrong, so she started out to 'view the landscape o'er,' as the tune says; but pretty quick she sees him a-comin' out o' the barn holdin' his hat in his hand, an' lookin' as disconsolate like as if he'd lost every friend he ever had or ever expected to have on this earth. 'What's the matter, sonny?' says she, 'can't ye find any eggs?' 'Yes,' says he, 'I found two, but they ain't no good.' 'What's the trouble?' says she. 'They ain't no good,' says he, again. 'The old hen was on the nest, an' when I scart her off, the eggs was spoiled,' says he. 'I guess she's cooked 'em, for they're both warm!' I'd like to know if any country boy could be greener in the city than that city boy was in the country?"

"I don't believe he could," laughed Jock.

"That's my opinion, too," said Ethan, soberly. "Why, that there boy was the greenest thing alive! D'ye know, he 'lowed he'd never seen a live pig in all his born days. What d'ye think o' that? Yes, sir! never had seen a live pig, an' he was a boy ten year old, goin' on 'leven."

Ethan's reminiscences were cut short, however, for they were now entering Goose Bay. Its wooded shores and high bluffs, its still waters and little islands, in the light of the morning sun, presented a scene of marvellous beauty, and both boys were much impressed by the sight. In the distance they perceived their companions, and as soon as they had been seen, Ethan exclaimed,--

"They're still-fishin'."

"Still fishing? Of course they are. Why shouldn't they be?" inquired Bob.

"Ye're as green as that city boy I was tellin' ye of. Still-fishin' is jest fishin' still, ye know. Not trollin' the way I'm goin' to, but they're anchored, and are havin' a try with worms for bait."

"What do they catch?" said Bob.

"I don't know what they're catchin', but there's perch there, an' I presume that's what they're fishin' for. We'll try the bass, though, a spell longer."

Ethan rowed slowly in near the shore, and had gone but a short distance before Bob felt the welcome tug upon his line, and, after a contest of a few minutes, succeeded in bringing the struggling fish close to the boat, where it was successfully landed by the boatman. Bob was doing better now and profiting by his mistakes, but Jock had not caught a fish since they had started from the camp.

"What's the trouble, Ethan? Why don't I get any?" he said.

"More'n I can tell ye. Bees won't sting some folks and dogs won't bite 'em, either. Mebbe it's the same way with fishes."

Jock's ill-luck still continued, however, and although Ethan rowed over the rocky shoal for an hour and a half, not a fish did the eager lad secure. Bob was rapidly becoming an expert, and already had landed a half-dozen large bass, and had lost only three.

"I'll row ye in-shore a bit," said Ethan, dropping his oars and taking a tin cup, with which he dipped up some of the water in the bay and quenched his thirst.

"What's wrong with this work?" inquired Bob. "I'm not finding any fault."

"Probably not," replied Ethan, dryly. "We'll change our tune a spell, and see if we can't do some thin' for this other boy."

Bob uttered no further protest, and Ethan at once sent the little skiff swiftly toward the shore. As it grounded upon the beach he said, "Now you two boys get out an' wait for me here. I'll be back pretty quick, an' we'll see what can be done."

The boys obediently leaped ashore and then stood for a moment together as they watched their boatman. Ethan moved out near a low point and, dropping overboard his anchor, took a light little rod they had noticed in the boat, and began to fish. They could see him as he drew several into the boat, and then in a few minutes he came for the waiting lads.

"Wait a minute," he said, as he drew the boat up on the beach. "I'm goin' to do somethin' else. I'm goin' to have young Jock get a fish if such a thing is possible."

Ethan walked up the shore, and the boys could see him as he darted in among the rushes, leaping about like a schoolboy. They could not perceive what his object was, but as they had implicit confidence in his ability, they remained contentedly where they were, and Ethan soon returned.

"There!" he exclaimed. "Neow if them fish don't bite, it won't be because we haven't given 'em what they want for dinner. Get aboard, boys."

The boys quickly resumed the places they had occupied, and their boatman once more began to row. "Don't let out yer lines yet," he said. "Wait till I'm ready for ye."

Wondering what plan Ethan had in mind, the boys obeyed, and Ethan soon started toward another part of the bay. He glanced keenly about him and then peered over into the water. Apparently satisfied with his inspection, he let the anchor fall, and as the skiff swung around before the light wind and settled into position, he said, "Let's have your lines, boys."

"We're going to still-fish, are we, Ethan?" said Jock.

"I'm thinkin' some on it."

"What do we catch here?" inquired Bob.

"That depends. Some folks catches one thing and some another, an' sometimes they doesn't catch anything at all."

"Why do you put such a fish as that on my hook?" exclaimed Jock, aghast.

Ethan had taken a fish, a "chub," he termed it, which must have weighed a full half pound at least, and baited Jock's hook with it.

"To catch fish with," remarked Ethan, laconically, as, after inspecting the struggling bait, he threw it overboard. "Now let him take your line and go where he wants to. Not too fast. Go easy, like," he added, as he turned to equip Bob in a similar manner.

"Ethan thinks we're after alligators or whales," said Bob, as his own line began to run out. "Oh, well, we'll have the fun of sitting out here on the water if we don't get a strike," he added, settling back in his comfortable chair.

Indeed it did seem as if no fish in the St. Lawrence would be attracted by such a bait as that which the boatman had provided. Neither of the boys really expected any result, but they were not inclined to protest.

The scene about them was the reflection of that within. A perfect summer day, with woods in the distance, and a silence interrupted only by the harsh cawing of the crows. The beautiful water glistening in the sunlight, and the gentle motion of the skiff as it slowly turned with the slightly changing breeze, increased the sense of absolute peacefulness. The roar of the city seemed like something unreal and something which they never had actually heard. Neither of the boys spoke for a time, and Bob closed his eyes as he leaned back in his seat. Ethan also was silent, but his keen eyes were seldom taken from the lines.

"Your bait seems to be goin' up-stream," he said in a low voice to Jock.

Instantly the lad sat erect and looked eagerly at his line. It did seem to be moving through the water, but as yet he had felt no tug, and could hardly believe it was anything more than the motion of the "chub."

"Is it a fish, Ethan?" he exclaimed excitedly.

"Looks like it."

"Shall I reel him in?" he inquired, as he started to rise from his chair.

"No, no!" replied Ethan, quickly. "Let him get the bait. If he swallows it for good and all, you'll have him."

All in the boat were now following the movements of Jock's line. The lad had reeled out more, and still it was steadily moving away. For two full minutes the excitement continued, and then Ethan said:--

"Reel in now, a bit. Do it gently, and don't skeer him. Want me to take the rod?"

"No!" exclaimed Jock, decidedly. "I'll win or lose him myself."

Slowly he turned the reel, gazing eagerly all the time at his line in the water, but as yet he had felt no response.

Suddenly there was a yank which almost took the rod from his hand, and which made the reel sing as the line was drawn from it.

"Let him go! Let him go! Ye'll have to tucker him eout!" exclaimed Ethan. "I'm thinkin he felt somethin' prick his heart."

"Shall I stand up?" said Jock, in increasing excitement.

"No, ye'll be overboard if ye do. Now, keerful! Reel him in when ye can, and when he wants to take the bit in his teeth let him go. There! That's the way! That's the way to do it!"

Jock was enjoying the contest hugely. He would reel in a few yards, and then with a savage plunge the fish would dart away again, only to have the measure repeated. Five minutes, ten minutes, passed, and still the contest was not ended, nor had Jock had one glimpse of the fish he had hooked. From its struggles and the manner in which it pulled, the excited lad thought he must have caught a monster of some kind.

He was reeling in steadily now, and peering at the same time over into the water. Suddenly he caught sight of a huge body near the boat and knew that it must be his victim; but the glance was only for a moment, for with another desperate plunge the fish darted away again and the reel repeated its song.

"He's gettin' tuckered out," said Ethan. "Now don't give him any slack, and look out for your rod, or he'll snap it in a minit. Keep a steady hand this time, an' I'll see what I can do with the gaff."

Jock had no idea of what a "gaff" was, but he gave it little thought, whatever it might be. The fish was coming steadily this time, and once more the eager boy could see him in the water.

"Now be keerful! Bring him up alongside the boat. There! That's right!" said Ethan, in a low voice.

"What a beauty!" exclaimed the delighted Jock.

"Keep still, or ye'll scare him," warned Ethan.

But the fish was within reach now, and the boatman leaned forward, and with a quick thrust of his gaff drove it into the body. There was a splash of water, the light skiff rocked until the boys were almost thrown from their seats, and then they instantly recovered themselves and turned to see the result of Ethan's effort.