Part 14 (1/2)

And he did, with Bluff standing alongside; for once the official photographer demanded a pose, he was bound to get it, or throw up his job, for such was the law of the Rod, Gun and Camera Club.

Then they retraced their steps to the camp, Frank more than usually thoughtful, for anything in the shape of a mystery always set him to puzzling, and he more than once wondered whether they would ever learn just why those Crees stole the elk Bluff had downed after so much trouble.

”How many did there seem to be?” he asked Reddy, a little later.

”You mean of the thieving reds? I counted nine in all, four bucks, two squaws and three pappooses,” replied the other.

”But if I understand rightly, these Indians never take their families when they go on the war-path. Is that so, Reddy?” Frank asked quickly.

”Say, get that notion out of your head right away. They ain't no Crees lookin' for trouble these days. My idea is just this: This is a family travelin' acrost country, for some reason or other. P'raps they got kicked out of their pesky old village. I've knowed such things to happen. Then they run short of meat, and didn't have guns or powder.

Under such conditions any redman would steal.”

”Well, who could blame them, with women and children to feed? I guess you hit the nail on the head that time, Reddy. Glad to think that way, too. We can spare the elk, and it will spur Bluff on to other hunting deeds. He's had a taste now, and the fever will work on him.”

Meanwhile, Jerry had started his fis.h.i.+ng below the cataract. There were places just at the end of the foam-splashed outlet of the big pool where they had seen n.o.ble trout jumping, and it was here he dropped his flies.

After trying them a short time, and ascertaining that the trout paid little attention to the feathery lure, practical Jerry actually descended to the plebian angleworm, though he blushed when Frank came over to watch him.

”Got to have some for supper, you know,” he remarked. ”Now, if I was only doing this thing for the sport, nothing could tempt me to use live bait. I'm at it in the strict commercial sense this time.”

”I understand; and Jerry, let me tell you, the sportsman who, when trout-hungry, refuses to go back to first principles, and use grubs and worms after the fish refuse the fly, is to be pitied, that's all,”

laughed Frank.

”Hey! That's a dandy, all right! See him jump, will you? Wow! He's all of two pounds, and as strong as an ox! I hope the leader holds. It's been frayed some by rubbing over rocks in the past. Please pick up that landing-net and attend to the beauty, if I can coax him close enough, Frank.”

Frank landed not only that beauty, but several more, ere he wandered off to do something else. Jerry kept on fis.h.i.+ng until he could not get another bite, by which time he had quite a nice string of the speckled beauties.

”Perhaps enough for a decent meal; though if Bluff develops his usual appet.i.te, the rest of us would go hungry. I wonder if a fellow mightn't have some luck up above the falls? Guess I'll make a s.h.i.+ft to try,” he said to himself.

The last view he had of the camp showed him Reddy amusing Bluff by making flying tosses of his rope and la.s.soing all sorts of objects, from the hat on the head of the admiring witness, to something tossed up in the air.

Jerry labored up the hillside until he finally came to where he could look down at the water as it shot over the edge. It fell with a great deal of noise, striking the rocks below in many places with terrific force.

”Ugh! It would just about bang a fellow to pieces to drop over there,”

he remarked, commencing to move upstream, looking for a promising place to begin his fis.h.i.+ng operations.

Presently he discovered a log that jutted out over the swift current.

From this outlook he believed he could allow his bait to float down into an eddy that looked as though it might be the home of a big hermit trout.

Jerry tested the log as he cautiously advanced. He realized that he was taking some chances in creeping out to its furthest end, but so far as he could ascertain it seemed to be firm enough.

Straddling the log, he started to get his baited hook in motion. The wriggling worms sank a little in the swirl. At first, he was unable to just master the difficult problem of how to influence the bait to float into the eddy. Twice he failed to accomplish this, but studying the rus.h.i.+ng stream a little, he fancied that by a certain throw in the start he could gain his end.

Sure enough, it worked, and like a charm. The baited hook was drawn back into the foam-flecked eddy, and he saw it vanish from view. Then came a most tremendous jerk, that almost caused him to lose his balance and the log to quiver, with sickening possibilities.

But Jerry glued his legs against the sides, just as he had been told to do with a refractory pony, and managed to recover his balance. The trout was a gamey one, and the swiftness of the current made the task of securing him doubly hard.