CHAPTER XII

ON FISHING BENT

"IF you think you can get on without me, Dick, I'd like to slip away for a little time," Roger was saying, after the boats had been run ashore, the horses tethered among the trees, and preparations for supper, with an attendant air of bustle, were well underway.

Of course Dick knew what was in the wind. He had not forgotten the remark made by his comrade that, if the chances were favorable, he meant to spend half an hour or so that evening collecting worms and grubs to be used as bait when they tried their luck at fishing on the next day.

"To be sure I can," he told Roger, with a smile. "All you have to do is to trot along with your hatchet, and something to put the grubs in--if you find any."

"Oh! I'm not afraid of being left in the lurch there," asserted Roger, stoutly. "I can see plenty of signs of dead wood around here. A fierce storm must have swept across this section many years ago, that leveled plenty of big trees, which are now rotting on the ground. Grubs like to hide in that sort of decayed stuff. Look for me by the time it gets dusk."

"Keep your gun near you, and it would be better not to stray too far away from the camp," warned cautious Dick, speaking on general principles.

"You don't believe there's any danger lurking near by, do you?" asked Roger, though failing to show much concern, for his nature was daring and fearless.

"Nothing more than we always count on," the other told him. "But white men who are in a strange country must always figure on finding an enemy hiding back of some tree or rock, so keep your eyes about you, Roger. If I should hear your gun sound, or catch a hullo, depend on me to come in a hurry."

Roger only laughed, for he did not believe any peril could lurk so close to the camp. Still, accustomed to being on his guard, he made it a point to see that the powder was in the pan as he tucked his gun under his arm and strode forth.

He found to his relief that there were plenty of old stumps and rotting logs close to where the fires had been started, so that he need not go any great distance away in order to begin his search.

His hatchet was soon brought into play, as he smashed some of the likely looking remnants of once proud forest monarchs. It required little muscular effort, scattering the soft punk-like wood, and, hardly had the boy obtained a fair start, than with a satisfied little cry he reached down and seized an enormous white grub whose home in the heart of the decayed stump he had broken open.

Just as Roger had anticipated, a rich harvest awaited him. Sometimes he came upon half a dozen prizes in one stump, and it was not long before he knew that, before the darkness became too dense for him to see how to work, he would have secured all the bait they could possibly use on the following morning.

At any rate, they would always have their hatchets with them, and, should their supply run low, there would be plenty of other opportunities to replenish their store.

So it was that he returned to camp much sooner than Dick in his most sanguine moments had imagined possible. There was hardly any need to ask Roger how his quest had turned out, for the broad smile on his tanned face told the story.

"A noble lot of fish lure," assented Dick, when he had examined the contents of the small box into which Roger had also cast a handful of powdered dead wood, in which his prisoners could conceal themselves. "I must say you struck it rich this time."

"And, unless the weather goes against us when morning comes," continued Roger, as he fastened up the box so that nothing could get at the bait during the night, "we ought to do some tall fishing, it strikes me. I'd just like to give the whole camp a splendid treat to those beauties of speckled rainbow fish which we believe to be a species of trout."

All evening long the subject was frequently in his mind, for Roger was one of those persistent persons who, once they have planned anything, can think of little else.

"I tell you what I mean to do after we've had our breakfast," he said at one time during the evening.

"All right," remarked Dick, who knew how useless it was to try to keep Roger's mind off his fishing, "suppose you do then, and I'll jot it down in my notebook, for I'm making up my day's log, you see. Go on and tell me."

"If you look over there, Dick, you can see that friendly Indian who has insisted on sticking to us for two days now, walking along the shore, squatting close to our fires, and watching everything we do as though he was head over heels in love with the ways of the palefaces."

"Yes, I've often wondered what he could be thinking about," admitted Dick. "I've seen Captain Lewis trying to talk with him by signs, and often calling one of the men up to help out. From that I judged the Indian might be giving him some valuable information, which was why they allow him to tag after us so long, and even see that he gets his share of food at meal times."

"Well," continued Roger, "my idea is to go over to him now, and see if he can understand that we'd like to have him tell us about a good place for fishing in the morning; for, after all, what's the use of waiting until breakfast time; he might be gone in the night. What do you say to it, Dick?"

"Not a bad scheme," his chum assented. "And, do you know, I think the brave has taken some little interest in both of us, because a number of times it seemed to me he was watching us closely. There's your chance now, for that matter, Roger; and, if you find it too hard to make him understand, get Jasper Williams, our good friend, to act as interpreter for you."

Upon that the impulsive Roger scrambled to his feet and presently he could be seen sitting close to the friendly Indian brave, engaging him in a strange conversation in which hands and smiles took the place of words.

Apparently, Roger finally found the task greater than he could manage, for he called to genial Jasper Williams, who joined them. Then the business of explaining to the dusky son of the wilderness was taken up anew; and with fair success, if the look on Roger's boyish face meant anything.

When he once more rejoined his chum he was fairly bubbling over with enthusiasm, so that Dick was not at all surprised to hear him exclaim:

"The finest of luck ever, Dick! Would you believe it? that brave tells us there is a small stream emptying into the Missouri a couple of miles above the camp, and that it is reckoned the best place for those big fat trout around this section of the country."

"That is good news, indeed," remarked Dick, also pleased. "So we can look forward to supplying the camp with a mess of fish, if all goes well."

"Not only did he tell us that," continued the eager lad, "but he agreed to go along with us, and show where the best holes lie; for in hot weather, you know, all trout leave the shallows and gather in the deep, dark pools. If we didn't know just where those places were we might waste a lot of time trying."

At the time Dick thought they were very fortunate to be able to command the services of the friendly Indian, and he mentioned this belief to Roger.

"He seems to have taken a great fancy to the whites, and, no matter if he does eat like a hungry dog, we must not complain. He will hardly wish to go much further from his own people, and we may expect to wake up some fine morning to find that the brave has slipped off during the night."

"So long as he does not steal one of our horses or guns nobody will complain, I guess," chuckled Roger. "These Indians are a light-fingered set, take them all in all, and Jasper Williams says he never would trust one out of his sight."

Having made all their fishing arrangements the boys soon afterwards sought their shelter made from branches, and wrapped in their blankets tried to find sleep.

The camp was governed with military strictness, and there were sentries on duty all through the night, for Captain Clark had this part of the arrangements in charge. Not once up to this time had they been taken by surprise, though on several occasions roving bands of Blackfeet or Dacotahs had tried to steal their horses, only to meet with failure.

Securely guarded in this manner, they passed the night in peace, and so another dawn found them. As usual the travelers were early astir, for there were no laggards among them. Every man had his duties to perform, and strict discipline kept them to their various tasks.

Roger of course was about the first one up, though he knew that Dick could not be coaxed to make a start until he had performed every one of his duties as was his custom. If the fish were as plentiful as the friendly Indian had declared, they would have abundance of time to take heavy toll of their number long before noon came around.

"We decided to take one of the smaller boats if it could be spared, you remember, Dick," Roger was saying as they ate breakfast.

"Yes," the other replied, "and I've already mentioned that to Captain Clark, who gave me full permission to do so. This is certainly one of the times we would enjoy having that buffalo-hide Indian boat we shot the rapids in. I was beginning to think we ought to change our minds about giving it away, when that accident happened, and ruined it for hard work."

"Accident!" echoed Roger. "We knew different after we found where that sharp knife-blade had been run along the bottom almost through the tough hide. But that sly dog of an Andrew Waller paid dearly for his work. I wonder what became of him; whether he joined the French trader and his son, or went over to the Indians."

"We may never know," his chum admitted. "For my part, I hope and trust that neither of us will ever set eyes on Waller again. I did not like the look he gave us when he went out of camp that day; and, like all guilty wretches caught in the act of doing wrong, he blames us for his troubles."

In good time Dick announced that he was ready to make the start. Roger saw to it that they had the bait. Stout poles had also been secured, to the end of which the fishing lines were fastened. Such things as reels those pioneer lads never knew. When a prize was hooked it was their business to land the captive in the speediest way possible; and, as a rule, this consisted in swinging the struggling trout over their heads on to the land.

The Indian was hovering nearby. Dick fancied that he looked very eager, as though he quite enjoyed the idea of accompanying the pair on their fishing trip, and making himself useful. Perhaps, the boy thought, the poor fellow wished to attach himself to the expedition, on account of the charm it had for his untutored mind; for Indians could feel the desire for adventure such as urged these bold white men to penetrate farther day by day into the unknown country.

The boys picked out the boat best adapted to their needs, and which could be most easily spared. Beckoning to the Indian, the boys prepared to push out on the river. Two paddles were to be the means of urging the light craft against the strong current of the river, and an hour's time would be ample to see them to their destination, Roger thought, as he commenced to wield the spruce blade vigorously.

Jasper Williams called out a last word of caution as they passed away, up the stream, for he felt a strong interest in these boys with whose fortunes he had been so intimately connected.

"Keep your eyes about you, lads," was what he told them, "and don't trust everything you see, just because it looks innocent. There's a difference between red and white, remember. Good luck to you both!"

Others also called out, begging the boys to remember that they too liked a mess of fresh fish; and, with these friendly voices ringing in their ears, Dick and Roger paddled swiftly up the river, soon losing sight of the explorer's camp.