Chapter 9

John began to cast the hooks back and forward above his head, as every fisherman does in casting a fly. Little by little he lengthened the line, still keeping it in the air, until he saw he had out enough to reach well across the pool. Then, gently as he could, he dropped the line and its gang of hooks on the surface of the water. The hooks, being small, were not heavy enough to sink the line directly. John waited and allowed it to settle until the hooks were flat on the bottom on the farther side of the pool. He looked down on the water and saw the silvery mass divided in two sections, as though the line had cut it. The keen eyes of the fish, heedless as they usually are in the spring run, had now grown more suspicious, and they settled apart as the line came across them, visible against the sky as they looked up from below.

John made no motion for a time; but at last, as the fish began to settle back, he gently raised the tip of the rod, and began to work the hooks toward him across the pool in short, steady jerks. At first the line was too low to pass near the main body of the fish, but as it shortened the hooks began to travel up through the depth of the pool. Then, all at once--he never knew how, exactly--something startling happened. There was a sudden breaking of the surface of the pool into a shower of spray, and with a mad rush a big salmon twelve or fifteen pounds in weight nearly jumped into his face as he stood at the edge of the water.

Frightened, he dropped the tip of the rod, and every boy present gave an exclamation of surprise. The words were not out of their mouths before, suddenly, the water on the far side of the pool was broken and the spot at John's feet was vacant. The fish, swift as lightning, had tumbled back after its leap across the pool and gone up on the other side in an attempt to escape the hooks, one of which, by chance, had fastened in the lower jaw. Therefore, as the fish could keep its mouth closed, it was ready for as fair a fight as though it had taken the fly, although little can be said in praise of foul-hooking a fish under any circumstances save those such as now existed, for these boys were in need of food.

John had caught trout before, and had seen many a good fish handled on a fly-rod. After the first rush or two of the fish he gathered in the line rapidly with his left hand and put a strain on the rod. The salmon at first did not attempt to repeat its earlier mad rushes, but in fright began to circle the pool, scattering all the other fish into a series of silver splashes as they spread this way and that.

Having got in touch with the fish, and finding that the hook still held, John now reeled in all the slack and settled down to a workman-like fighting of the fish, the others standing near him and volunteering suggestions now and then, of course.

"The tide's coming in all the time," said John. "If this fish ever leaves the pool and starts across on the flats, I don't see what I'm going to do, because the creek's too deep to wade now."

The salmon, however, obligingly kept to the pool, once in a while making a mad leap into the air and shaking himself. Skookie, without advice from any one, stationed himself at the foot of the pool, and whenever the fish headed that way, he tossed a stone in front, heading it back and keeping it from running out toward the sea. Finally he motioned Jesse to take up this work, and without removing any of his scanty clothing, or asking advice from any one, walked up above the place where John was standing and deliberately plunged into the creek and swam across, taking up a position on the opposite side of the pool, where the tide-water was beginning to spread out into the flats. Thus the boys had the pool surrounded, and whenever the fish started one way in dangerous fashion, a stone thrown in front of him would usually turn him. All John had to do was to keep the strain of the rod on his fish and to see that he had plenty of line on the reel.

They fought the old fellow in this way for more than half an hour, until John's arms fairly ached from the strain of the rod--a sturdy split bamboo of the best American make, which well withstood the skilful use it now was receiving. There is no need to break a fly-rod when the reel is full of line, and the strain can be eased to suit the rushes of the fish.

"Well, I don't see that we are much closer to our salmon than we were when we began," said Rob, at last. "It's good fun, but a slow way of getting salmon. Can't you pull him in on the line?"

John shook his head. "I'm afraid it would break," said he. "Never you mind. We'll get Mr. Salmon before we're through. I can handle him all right, I'm pretty sure."

He came near speaking too early, however, for now, with some impulse of its own nature, the salmon concluded it had had enough of this sort of thing and decided to go back to sea. With a long, straight rush it headed for the bottom of the pool. Rob and Jesse began to cast in rocks, but in spite of all their splashing the fish kept on taking out yard after yard of John's line. At last John, still using all the strain the rod would stand, was obliged to follow on shore. The fish turned the corner of the pool and entered the narrow gut in the rocks which led out to the sea, where the creek entered it over a wide flat of shingle. John was able to keep his feet in the hurried rush along shore, and he kept touch with the fish all through the narrows and until it had reached the shallows, where the flats were now covered two or three feet deep with the advancing tide. Here the last inch of his line was exhausted, and he himself, desperate in his anxiety to keep his fish and to save his rod, followed until he was waist deep in the sea. The salmon did not swerve, but headed straight for some distant haunt which perhaps it remembered as existing out there in the ocean.

At length John could go no farther with safety, and in desperation gave the fish the butt, as an angler says. The rod bent up into a splendid arch, all its strength being now pitted against the power of the swimming fish.

The latter, somewhat tired by its long flight, felt this added resistance of the rod, and unable to gain any more line, since there was no more to gain, and to ease itself of the strain, flung itself high into the air just as the last limit of the rod was reached. Down it came with a splash, but this time apparently confused; for as it fell on the water and chanced to head up-stream, it started directly back over the course it had come. The long slack of the line could not be recovered fast enough to follow it, but the hook held. A moment later the fish was back in the pool, the line back on the reel, and John, perspiring and flushed, was still master of the situation.

After that matters were simpler. The fish was more tired, and its leaps into the air were shorter and more feeble.

Without advice from any one, Skookie now ran out into the grass and found his long salmon gaff. Wading at the edge of the pool, he made one or two ineffectual attempts to gaff the salmon; then flinging the pole across the creek to the others, again he plunged in, swam across, and took up his stand near John, who by this time had shortened the line and was fighting the fish close in.

"Now we'll get him!" cried Rob. "Go slow there, John. Don't let him break away. He's headed in now. Just lead him in. There!"

With a swift, sure movement the Aleut boy had gaffed the salmon, and an instant later it was flapping high and dry at the top of the bank. It seemed to them this was a better fish than any they had taken directly with the snagging-pole, although, as a matter of fact, it was the latter implement, after all, which had landed the fish.

John sat down on the shingle, tired after the long fight. He patted the rod affectionately.

"Talk about fun!" said he; "this is the _only_ way to catch fish."

Indeed, this proved much to be the truth within the next few days, for the salmon became so wary as to make it hard to reach them by anything but a long line. Sometimes it would be an hour before they could foul-hook a fish, but in this way they got a number of salmon--some of them fastened around the head, one or two, strangely enough, directly in the mouth, and several directly under the back fin. Again a fish might be hooked close to the end of the tail, and in such cases it was almost impossible to land it for a long time. But with skill and care the fly-rod, devoted to this somewhat crude form of sport, held its own, and much more than paid for itself in actual food, not to mention the added sport.

XXIII

AMONG THE EAGLES

The routine of camp life, where one is obliged to do all the cooking and other work, besides providing food, is ordinarily enough to keep the camper pretty busy. The boys usually found enough to do with their hunting, fishing, cooking, and other work, but sometimes in these long Alaska days, where for almost twenty-four hours the sun shone and the darkest night was scarcely more than an hour or so of twilight, they found time to wander around their island in exploring expeditions.

At times they climbed one peak or another almost to the top, but from the loftiest eminences they attained they could see nothing of the interior of the island except more and more sharp and rugged peaks thrusting themselves up--a mountain region which, indeed, is little known by any white man, or even by the natives, who rarely go far inland.

A customary journey for them was along one or the other of the river valleys which came down to their bay, the mouths of which they could reach in calm weather easily by a short journey in the dory. Their favorite valley was that running back from what they called "Gull Rocks." It was traversed by a good salmon river and was much frequented by wild animals. As it chanced, they did not run across any more bear, although continually here and elsewhere they saw signs where these great animals had done their work in salmon-fishing--heaps of bones where scores of fish had been partially stripped of their flesh.

On one particular day, as the young adventurers passed up this valley on an all-day tramp, they found the salmon heaps especially abundant, and observed that the numbers of crows and eagles were more than usually great.

"I think it's a new run of fish coming in," said Rob. "Probably the 'humpies' are beginning to run. They're bigger than the red salmon, which we've been having so far. They're better to eat, too; even the bears know that. We'd better look out or we may run across more bear in here than we want. See here where this big fellow was eating last night. I suppose he has gone back into the mountains somewhere by now. And here is where some foxes have come down and eaten what the bears left; and the crows are waiting to eat what the foxes left. And look there, at that fish-eagle! Old Mr. Osprey is working for his breakfast now."

He pointed to a large, grayish bird which was circling above them, its neck bent down as it peered intently at the surface of the stream below.

"Watch him!" said Jesse. "There!"

All at once the osprey, which had been uttering a low sort of whistle, folded its wings and darted down, swift as a flash, at an angle of about forty-five degrees. With a resounding smack, and in a cloud of white spray, it disappeared from view beneath the surface of the water; but instantly, with a vast flapping, it rose and fought to get wing-hold on the air. Taking flight only with the utmost effort, the boys saw that it held in its talons a big salmon whose weight was all it could manage to bear away.

"Well, what do you think of that?" said Jesse. "Didn't he do it easy? I should think he would break his back, hitting the water that hard."

"Yes," commented John; "if a fellow dives from a place ten feet high it's fall enough for him; but this fish-hawk came from two or three hundred feet up in the air. They must be put together pretty strong or they'd smash themselves. Look at him go!"

Uttering now its shrill whistle, the osprey rose higher and higher in a wide circle, endeavoring to carry off its prize. Something seemed to agitate the bird, and a moment later the boys saw what this was. High up above, in still larger circles, was a larger bird--a male bald eagle, which now drew into position directly above the osprey.

"Now watch, and you will see some fun," said Rob. "No wonder Mr. Osprey is mad; he's going to lose his fish--that's what's going to happen to him. Watch that eagle!"

The two birds kept their relative positions--the osprey, either angry or frightened, still struggling to get away with its prey; the eagle, easily circling above it, itself now and then uttering a shrill cry--a scream-like whistle that could be heard at a great distance.

At last the osprey gave up the struggle and attempted to escape. With difficulty it detached one foot from the fish, which now fell down at full length and disarranged the osprey's flight. Finally it succeeded in shaking the talons of the other foot free. The osprey made a swift side dash and left the salmon to fall, at a height of, perhaps, one hundred and fifty feet or so.

The eagle, which seemed to be twice that high above the ground, now performed a feat which the boys could never understand. They did not see how he could fall much faster than the fish; yet before their eyes they saw the great bird half fold its wings and dart down swift as a flash. Before the salmon had struck the ground the eagle struck it, fair, with both feet, and, never touching the earth itself, swung in a wide, low circle, itself master by robbery of the prize which the labor of the fish-hawk had won.

"Look at that old thief!" said Rob. "It's a funny thing to me that an eagle can't very often catch fish for himself, plentiful as they are here. Yet you'll notice that if an eagle is on a tree directly over the salmon he can't start quick enough to catch a fish--it'll always swim away from him. They catch some in shallow water, but they don't seem to be very good fishermen after all. A bald-headed eagle would rather steal a fish from an osprey than to catch one for himself, and we've just seen how it's done. Watch the old thief!"

The eagle, apparently contented with his morning's work, leisurely rose and flapped on his way toward a clump of small cotton-woods. At the summit of a small tree he perched, holding the fish under his feet and uttering now some short, shrill cries, which the boys could hear answered from the heap of brush which they saw was the nest prepared by these birds. There were scores of these rude nests scattered along the timber flats.

"Let's go and see what they do now," suggested Rob.

As they approached they saw the male bird clumsily flap down to the nest, where it dropped the fish. The hen eagle fell upon it with short, savage screams and began to tear it apart. They also saw, now and again bobbing above the rim of the nest, the heads of two young eagles.

Rob cast a critical look at the trunk of the tree. "I can climb that tree," said he, at last, "and I have a mind to turn the tables on that old thief up there."

He pointed to the male eagle, which was now flapping in short circles above the top of the tree, uttering hoarse cries of anger.

"You'd better look out," said John; "old Mother Eagle will pick your eyes out if you're not careful."

"I'm not so sure about that," said Rob; "but I'll take care. Anyhow, here goes!" So saying, he threw off his coat and began to ascend the tree, a feat which grew easier as he reached the wide-spreading limbs. In a few minutes he stood almost under the nest. Here he kept his left arm in front of his face and made feints with a piece of branch at the mother eagle, which indeed came dangerously close to him. The boys below began to flop their arms and throw up their coats. At length both of the parent birds, contrary to what might be believed or may have been written regarding them, turned tail like cowards and abandoned their young to their fate. They perched on trees a hundred yards or so distant, and watched to see what would go forward. Rob worked his way on up the tree and peered curiously over the edge of the wretched brush-heap which served as the nest. Here he saw two large, ungainly young birds, not yet able to fly, but able to spit, scratch, and flap their wings. Getting a good foothold on a supporting branch, Rob made several attempts to get hold of the young birds. Finally he succeeded in getting one by the neck, and with a jerk threw it out so that it fell flapping to the ground. Skookie would have killed it at once, but the others stopped him. A few moments later they were owners of both these birds, and Rob had rejoined his companions at the foot of the tree.

"I'll tell you what," said he, as he wiped the perspiration from his face; "let's see if we can't make pets of these eagles. We nearly always have more than we can eat, and it's the same sort of food these birds are used to; so why shouldn't we tie them up and keep them around the hut? Maybe they'll scare the crows and ravens away from our fish."

"That's a fine idea," said John. "We'll just try that. I had a couple of hawks once for pets. They ate a great lot, and they fought you, too, for a long while. My hawks used to lie on their backs and grab me by the hand every time I tried to feed them. I suppose these eagles will be worse yet."

"Anyhow, we'll try them," said Rob. "Let's wrap them up in our coats and take them down to the boat."

This they did, and although the old eagles followed them for two or three miles, sometimes coming rather close, and frequently uttering their wild calls of anger, the boys had no trouble in making away with their young captives. The birds seemed rather stupid than otherwise, and were as ready to eat food from human hands as from the talons of their parents. They did not really become tame, but, having learned their source of food, in a few days became so indifferent to human presence that they would only ruffle up their scanty crests and beat their wings a little when approached. They never allowed one to put a hand on their heads, and, indeed, were very far from being friendly. Their presence about the camp, however, did serve in part to mitigate the nuisance of crows and ravens, which continually hovered about, trying to steal from the scaffold where the boys kept their supplies of meat and fish. All boys like pets, and these found their strange captives interesting enough at least to help pass the time.

XXIV

AN ADVENTURE ON THE GULL ROCKS

"I'll tell you, fellows," began Rob, a day or so after they had brought home the young eagles--"I'll tell you what we ought to do to-day after we have got the breakfast dishes done. Let's make a trip over to the big rocks beyond, where we went with Jimmy that time. If the eggs are not all hatched, and if these birds keep on laying, as maybe they do, we might still get some fresh eggs."

"That would be fine," said John, "because I for one am getting just a little tired of salmon all the while. I'd give anything for a good piece of bread and butter."

"Or pie," said Jesse, his mouth almost watering.

"Now, there you go," said Rob, "talking about things we can't have. Why, I wouldn't give a cent for a piece of pie myself--that is, not unless it was a piece of real cherry pie, with fresh cherries, the kind we used to get--" All three boys looked at one another and broke out laughing.

"Anyhow," said John, "maybe we can make a sort of pie after the salmon-berries get ripe. At least we could if we had a little flour and lard and baking-powder and things--"

"And if we knew how," added Jesse. "It seems to me the best thing we can do, the way things are, is to go egg-hunting as Rob suggests."

There was perhaps more wisdom in Rob's plan than any one of the boys knew at first. He was old and wise enough to know that the best way to keep them all from homesickness was to be busy all the time. This discovery is not new among military men, or those who lead exploring parties, although it was one which Rob thought out for himself; so now he went on:

"We'll just take the dory," he said, "and slip down the coast beyond the mouth of the creek, and so on beyond the rocks where Jimmy and we all went when we got the sea-parrot hides. There are rocks over there, tall needles with straight sides, that have got thousands of birds of all sorts on them."

"What will we do with our eagles?" asked Jesse, hesitating.

"We can leave them plenty of food, and put a few boards together so that they can get under in case the crows or ravens should attack them. They will get along all right, I am sure."

"I'd like to go with Skookie in the bidarka," said John, but Rob shook his head.

"No, you don't," he said, "you go in the dory with the rest of us. That boy is all right, but he might not be strong enough to handle a bidarka in a high sea; and up here we never can tell when the wind is going to come up."

"Suppose it did upset," said John, sturdily. "I have been out of it, here in the lagoon."

"Yes, but that is different from getting upset out there in the middle of the bay. You know perfectly well that you could not get back in again; and swimming out there is something different from the lagoon, where the bank is right at hand all the time. I don't even like to go very far out in the dory; but see, it is fair and calm just now. So hurry up and let's get away. Get all the rope you can, too, fellows, because we may have to go down the face of the rock to get at the nests."

"I have seen pictures of that," said Jesse--"how the egg-gatherers go down in a rope handled by other men up above them on the rocks. Do you suppose that three of us could pull the other fellow up and down? Skookie here looks pretty strong."

"I don't know," said Rob, "but we'll take the rope along and see how it works out."

Not long after they were safely off in the big dory, which, under two pairs of oars and with the wind favorable, astern, made very good time down the long spit at the mouth of the creek. Beyond that point they were obliged to take to the open bay, quite out of touch of land, for a distance of a mile and a half. This brought them to the foot of a small, rocky island, out of which arose two or three sharp, column-like groups of rocks which, as Rob had said, were literally covered with nesting birds.

"We'll have to get around behind," said Rob; "nobody could climb up on this side, that's sure."

Scrambling over the loose rocks, left wet and slippery by the tide, they passed to the rear of these pillars, first having made fast the dory so that it could not be carried away. In the pools of sea-water they found many strange shells and several specimens of the squid, or cuttle-fish, upon which Skookie fell gleefully. He and his people are fond of this creature as an article of food; but its loathsome look turned the others against it, so that with reluctance he was forced to throw them away again.